Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate
by anarchei
Summary: A draenei paladin travelling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

Summary: A draenei paladin traveling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.

Sorry about the shortness of this piece. I intend to continue the story, however I am just not feeling up to it at the moment, nor is my descriptive ability up to the standard I would expect from myself. If anyone wants to help me write this, or if someone wants to take the premise and build upon the story, be my guest, the license above spells out the details.

UPDATE (30/06/09) -- Spelling, grammar, and a few other tweaks.

UPDATE (11/12/09) -- Revised the story, adding in new content.

--

Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate

--

Cold.

That was the thought that floated through the draenei's mind. It was cold. His race were known to be resilient, especially in extreme climates, however with temperatures far below freezing even the strongest draenei would begin feeling the cold. Shivering slightly, the paladin gently prodded his equine mount to pick up the pace. For the past few days the draenei had been travelling through Northrend, alternating between ground and air, searching. His thoughts turned inward, recalling why he was on this frigid continent of Azeroth, far from his home. His profession called for raw materials, and these materials could only be collected here. He needed gold, and crafting armour and weapons for others was the only way he could make said gold.

During his travels through Northrend he had encountered various elementals of fire, earth, and shadow. These aggressive beings were not willing to be reasonable and share their wealth, on the contrary, they attacked any and all who would dare come too close to them. The paladin needed the crystals that formed a part of their being, and while it was possible for elementals to give up a part of themselves to others, these creatures were hostile to all and no bargain could be made. He had gathered many such crystals from these beings, having dispatched them to do so, and together they formed eternals, a crystal that was necessary to craft the items his customers wanted. However, the material the draenei sought most was titanium, a rare ore that was harder to come by than any other. Titanium was important in that when smelted with eternals of fire, earth, and shadow, it formed a substance known as titansteel, a material that crafted the greatest of armour and weaponry. Strong and powerful, the items made from it were highly sought after and sold for quite a high price. The armour the paladin wore had been crafted by himself, with his blade crafted after a long and tiring quest not long ago.

Over the sound of hooves on frozen ground, the draenei heard something that shook him from his reverie and filled him with foreboding: battle. Not wasting any time, he urged his companion into a gallop. Racing past the snow-covered trees, the paladin came upon a clearing filled with undead. In the middle of the fray stood a solitary figure, conjuring spells and flinging them at the scourge in what appeared to be a desperate attempt to keep them at bay.

Jumping down from his horse, the paladin raced forward, his large two-handed sword held high. He met the undead warriors head on, slicing them with his sword, smashing them aside with his armoured body, and burning them with the purity of the Light. The mindless undead were slow to recognise the new threat, thus the draenei was able to leave a sizable dent in their number. Many began to come after him, their rotting flesh no match for the might of a paladin with the Light on his side. The draenei vanquished many of the scourge, and sensing that they were dealing with a greater threat, the mass of undead turned their attention to a new prey. The paladin was suddenly swamped with enemies. Not discouraged, the paladin used this to his advantage, calling on the Light to consecrate the ground beneath him over and over. The undead began dropping to the frozen earth without even having a chance to flay their limbs at the living intruder. Realising this, the scourge began to flee in a panic.

One of the scourge did not run. This brute appeared to be the leader of the rabble, and its mind was greater than that of its fellows. The death knight, formally a human, sneered at the draenei before lashing out with his axe. The paladin jumped back, barely missing the swipe. The undead knight cast a spell of dark energy and propelled it at the draenei, its green light aimed at his heart. Quickly shifting one hand from his sword, the paladin reached out and a split second before the bolt could hit, a near-invisible barrier formed that reflected the blast. Outraged, the death knight rushed forward to engage the draenei, however even with the unholy energy giving the undead greater strength than any other human, he was no match for the larger and more powerful draenei. After engaging blows several times, the death knight soon realised he was at a disadvantage, barely escaping a lethal blow each time. Finally, with a quick move, the paladin's sword moved past the death knight's defences and sliced through his neck, separating the undead's head from his body. The lifeless body fell to the ground, its head not far away, a look of surprise clearly visible through the dark helm. The draenei turned his attention to the one he had set out to rescue. Not immediately seeing anyone, the paladin quickly checked the ground, and sure enough, lying amongst the rotting corpses not far from where he was standing was the body of a tauren.

The draenei ran to the tauren's side and knelt to the ground, placing his hands on the shaman's chest, and poured the healing power of the Light into the tauren. The paladin was trained not only in the ways of channelling the Light to do damage, but also in the ways of healing also. As such, the wounds that covered the shaman's body began to close, and there was a sudden intake of breath into the bull's mouth, however the tauren still remained unconscious. Puzzled, the draenei attempted to rouse the shaman, shaking him slightly. It was then that the paladin noticed that one of the wounds at the tauren's side had not healed, and was still bleeding. Upon closer inspection, the draenei recognised the foul stench of the scourge. Whatever infection the bull had suffered, the paladin did not have to power to help him.

Thinking quickly, the draenei stood and dismissed his mount, the mystical horse fading into a silvery mist, and immediately began summoning another. In a matter of seconds a large cobalt netherdrake appeared as if out of nowhere, it's large scaled body surrounded by the energies of the Twisting Nether. The drake, quickly understanding the situation, lowered itself close to the ground, making it easier for the paladin as he carefully dragged the wounded tauren across the icy ground and onto the back of the winged creature. Moving a heavy being such as a tauren was no easy task, however the draenei was stronger than most, having developed his muscular body from years of hard work smithing and fighting.

"Jorus" said the draenei, calling his drake companion by name, as his arms bulged from lifting the shaman onto the drake's back. "We need to get to Dalaran."

The netherdrake nodded as his rider climbed on his back, the paladin settling behind his injured charge. Quickly weaving his thick arms around the tauren's waist and gripping the saddle with both hands, the drake sent up a swirl of snow as his wings flapped and lifted them off the ground. Rising through the tops of the trees, the draenei witnessed the undead soldiers scurrying through the brush, flinching and covering their heads as the drake let loose a tremendous roar.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

Summary: A draenei paladin traveling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.

Again, sorry about the shortness of this piece. I got the motivation last night to write some more, so I got out a pencil and paper and started writing. This is the result, with some minor edits. If anyone wants to help me write this, or if someone wants to take the premise and build upon the story, be my guest, the license above spells out the details.

UPDATE (30/06/09) -- Spelling, grammar, and a few other tweaks.

UPDATE (12/12/09) -- Revised the story, adding in new content.

--

Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 2

--

Noise.

All the paladin could hear was the noise of the netherdrakes wings and the wind in his pointed blue ears. Resting heavily on his armoured torso was the wounded shaman, the dark fur of the tauren flowing back and forth in the rapidly shifting air. Leaning forward, his bare chin almost touching the bulls left unarmoured shoulder, the draenei listened for the sound of the taurens breathing. Sighing in relief upon hearing the sign of life, the paladin carefully lifted his left plate-covered hand from the saddle and placed it on the shamans side, covering the gaping wound that stunk of undeath. Closing his glowing blue eyes, the paladin called on the Light, its healing power flowing from his hand and into the taurens wound. Yet again, the wound failed to close, however the flow of blood lessened, and the awful stench abated a fraction. Satisfied that he was slowing the pace of the poison, the draenei once again found his attention on the taurens breathing, which was slightly stronger, sounding less like a desperate wheeze and more like the shallow breaths of someone sleeping.

The growl of his netherdrake companion drew his attention away from the injured bull, looking up and around the large bulk of the shaman to see the floating city of Dalaran steadily growing larger as they approached, its many towers scraping the clouded sky. Seeing the city again reminded the draenei of why the magical place was there. Dalaran had recently been moved by magical means from its original home in the Alterac Mountains of Azeroth's eastern continent of Lordaeron, to its new home above the Crystalsong Forest of Northrend. The reasons for the move were many, however the main one was that the blue dragonflight was threatening all magic users, and as a city of magicians, Dalaran needed to be on the front line. In addition, the Kirin Tor, the organisation that held the city, had proclaimed Dalaran neutral ground, and as such it was open to all those that would accept their sanctuary in exchange for doing no harm to bitter enemies while inside its walls. It was for this reason that the draenei was taking the injured tauren to Dalaran: there was no other way he could seek help without been turned away or attacked.

Snapping out of his thoughts, the paladin noticed that the forest they flew over was made entirely out of crystal. Everything was made of crystal, and it had been that way ever since a great battle between dragons had been fought long ago. Every time the paladin and his netherdrake friend came through here they could hear the sound of the crystals singing. As they neared the floating city, Krasus' Landing came into view. This place was the designated area where winged creatures could come and go, and had been named after one of the greatest dragons of the red dragonflight. With as much care as possible, the drake touched down on the landing. The paladin slowly dismounted, keeping one hand on the tauren to hold him steady. Upon seeing the injured tauren, a contingent of Horde soldiers came rushing forward, their weapons remaining sheathed due to the sanctuary granted them by the Kirin Tor.

"He has been infected with a rare strain of the plague," the draenei spoke to them in fluent Orcish. "Is there a healer among you?"

Most of the Horde soldiers were taken aback by the draenei speaking their common tongue, however among the rabble of orcs, trolls, and sindorei, a lone tauren stepped forward, seemingly unsurprised by the paladins ability.

"I'm a druid," said the grey-furred bull. "I might be able to help."

With the aid of the some extra muscle, the task of lifting the injured tauren off the back of the netherdrake was made a whole lot quicker. Upon gently placing the shaman on the ground, the druid set about examining the wound on his brethrens side.

"You tried using the Light to cure him?" the tauren asked.

"That's right, I managed to heal everything else except for this wound," replied the draenei, kneeling to the side of the druid.

The bull nodded in understanding, his three-fingered hand gently prodding the infected wound. Upon doing so he immediately withdrew his hand, sensing the evil that lurked within the flesh. Blood was now oozing much quicker from the gash in the injured tauren's side.

"I cannot help him here, but with some help from the healers of Dalaran we can save his life," explained the druid. "You did well keeping him alive. We can take it from here."

Two heavy-set green-skinned orcs stepped forward, crouched down, and carefully lifted the unconscious shaman, then proceeded to carry him off into the city. Upon standing, the tauren druid appeared to consider something before turning to the draenei paladin.

"If you would like to check on his progress, you are more than welcome. We will be in the house of healing closest to the landing."

"Thank you," replied the draenei, watching the tauren walk away.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

Summary: A draenei paladin traveling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.

More story! I finally got around to writing a bit more.

UPDATE (30/06/09) -- Spelling, grammar, and a few other tweaks.

UPDATE (12/12/09) -- Revised the story, adding in new content.

--

Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 3

--

Anger.

An emotion generally associated with negative feelings, and one that was reflected in the eyes of the Alliance soldiers present on Krasus' Landing. The paladin was sure that they hated him for helping their enemy, however he wasn't a member of the Alliance, so it didn't bother him what they thought of him. And so the draenei ignored them, his attention focused at that moment on his netherdrake friend.

"Thanks for you help Jorus," said the paladin, gently rubbing under the drakes snout, feeling more than hearing the rumbling deep in the creatures throat that could have been confused with a purr. "Have fun hunting."

'It's not as fun when I have to avoid these foul undead' Jorus replied, his thoughts communicated directly to his companions mind. 'You know I'll get sick if I eat one.'

The draenei smiled and nodded. "I'll be finished in Northrend soon, so we can return to Draenor shortly."

'It will be good to see my family again,' replied the netherdrake, tilting its shark-like head to the side when he remembered his friend. 'You know they are your family too.'

His smiled diminished, but still present, the draenei nodded again, patting his friend on his slender but muscular neck. "Off you go, I have things to attend to here."

Noticing the sadness in his friends eyes, but knowing that nothing he said would make the pain go away, Jorus nodded his head and turned sharply. Extending his wings and pushing off the ground with his strong hind legs, the netherdrake took flight, quickly descending from view, heading to the forest below Dalaran.

After a few seconds of trying not to think about his past, the paladin turned, again trying to ignore the stares and looks of contempt directed his way from the members of the Alliance. Shaking his head slightly, the draenei turned to the stairway that led to Dalaran proper and began walking. Almost immediately he was been followed by one of the soldiers, a fellow draenei.

The paladin heard his name called, but chose to ignore it, not in the mood to listen to what he expected was a well rehearsed and propaganda-laden speech. Heading down the street toward what passed for a place to heal the sick, the draenei was grabbed by his right arm and jerked around so that he faced the other draenei.

"I'm talking to you, Daniel," said the draenei warrior. "I know you aren't deaf."

"And you know that my name isn't Daniel any more," the paladin replied, yanking his arm out of the warriors grip. "I changed it to Anarchei as soon as I reached the age of majority."

"Oh, now I remember, Daniel was your adopted name, the one those humans gave you," his voice laced with spite.

"Exactly. Now, what do you want?" Anarchei asked calmly, a slight frown marring his usually calm features.

"You know what I want," replied the warrior, sneering. "I want to know why you are helping the enemy, or did you forget that the tauren are Horde?"

"And did you forget that I don't subscribe to petty Azeroth politics?" replied Anarchei, preparing to turn and walk away.

"Petty? You think politics is petty?"

"No, I think politics is a discussion on how best to use violence to solve problems, I believe that being involved in the discussion is petty. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's someone I need to see."

Before Anarchei could get one step past the warrior, he found himself roughly shoved against the stone wall of a building.

"I don't think you understand what you just said, Daniel," the draenei sneering as he used the human name to insult the other draenei, his two hands holding Anarchei in place as he spoke. "You just insulted Velen, our leader on this world!"

Looking down on the slightly shorter draenei, Anarchei snarled.

"What do I care?" he said, his sharp fangs flashing. "I'm not welcome on the Exodar, the supposed home of all draenei on this planet, so which is the bigger insult?"

Shoving the warrior away, Anarchei stalked off, not looking back at the angry draenei. The paladins anger rapidly faded, to be replaced by thoughts of why he hated politics. The reason he discarded his human name was the same reason he wasn't welcome on the Exodar. By humans and draenei alike, he was considered a freak. It was nothing he said or did, but rather the way he was born. Not many are born that were like him, and those that were tried to hide it as best they could, for those that were revealed were scorned and exiled. It was because of this irrational hatred directed at him that he had come to the conclusion that politics was a waste of time. In the course of his life he had learned that working together and cooperation was more important than which side one was on, and that the only way to accomplish this goal was to be free from the oppressive whims of people who were willing to draw a sword first rather than settle things with words. Right now though, Anarchei had more important things to deal with than the past. The future of an injured tauren was now in the hands of complete strangers, and while the draenei and the tauren were both strangers to each other, Anarchei felt that a part of himself was invested in the outcome of what lay ahead.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

Summary: A draenei paladin traveling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.

What a surprise, I wrote more! Again, this is short, so I apologise. However, it is either this method of waiting for a proper full chapter, and I think you all prefer to read the story as soon as possible, so...

UPDATE (30/06/09) -- Spelling, grammar, and a few other tweaks.

--

Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 4

--

Clip-clop.

On softer ground draenei and tauren are generally quieter than any of the other races on Azeroth, however when placed in a city where the ground is paved with stone, they are one of the noisiest. Surrounding a neutral building were several shu'halo pacing, their bull-like bodies enclosed in various armours ranging from leather to plate metal. Upon seeing the lone draenei approaching, they halted in their tracks, watching as the one who had helped one of their own passed them by and entered through the door.

Anarchei stopped for a moment, seeing no one at first in what he assumed was the reception room. Looking around, he was quickly pulled from his observations by the arrival of a male purple-skinned kaldorei, his glowing golden eyes almost level with the draenei's contrasting blue.

"Are you the one that brought in the shaman?" the elf asked, his tone gentle yet firm.

"I am," replied Anarchei. "How is he?"

"I don't think I'm the right person to explain it to you," said the kaldorei. "I'm still in training to become a druid, so my knowledge of the art of healing is still lacking. If you'll follow me, I can show you to someone who knows of what he speaks."

"Thank you."

The two tall men made their way down a corridor off the reception, the night elf leading the draenei past several doors, all closed, the magical lighting more at home in the forests of Teldrassil glowing a pale blue. The young night elf halted at a closed door, turned to face the draenei, and gestured with his left hand.

"In here."

Anarchei stepped forward and turned the knob, opening the door.

"I have errands to attend to," the kaldorei druid-in-training explained before turning and leaving.

The draenei didn't have a chance to thank the elf, let along say farewell, before he was confronted with a familiar face.

"Ah, my friend, you have come," welcomed the large creature, his three-fingered right hand reaching out to clasp the right hand of the draenei. "I hope my apprentice wasn't too rude to you?"

"Your apprentice?" Anarchei enquired of the shu'halo, the tauren nodding in reply.

"One would think it the other way round, yet it would seem even one such as myself has something to teach to the longer-lived."

Anarchei nodded in understanding, having experienced a similar situation in the past.

"But this is not what you have come to talk about," the druid continued. "The one you brought to us, our kin..."

"Yes, how is he?" Anarchei asked.

"It is difficult to say," replied the bull, shaking his head slightly. "The wound is different than that which we are accustomed to, and while it heals under our more difficult magic, it seems the infection grows stronger despite our progress in limiting its spread."

"You mean its concentrating?"

"Yes, that's it!" the shu'halo wagged a finger. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Perhaps the longer-lived have something to teach one such as yourself?" Anarchei smiled, which grew into a grin when the druid burst out laughing.

"Thank you for that," said the tauren, chuckling. "Although I think I may have lived longer than you, young one."

"Details," Anarchei replied, soliciting another laugh from the bulky creature.

"Well, now that I understand what is occuring with the infection, we should be able to treat it now," explained the druid. "You can wait here if you'd like."

The tauren gestured to a row of chairs before turning to a wide door that the draenei paladin hadn't noticed before.

"How long do you think it'll be before he is back to good health?" Anarchei enquired.

The tauren stopped and turned his head. "A few days at least," he replied. "However when the infection is removed he should be awake in a few hours. Maybe you'd like to see him then?"

"I would appreciate it, thank you."

The shu'halo nodded before walking through the door and shutting it behind him, leaving the draenei alone in the small waiting room, alone with his thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

Summary: A draenei paladin traveling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.

Author note: Amazing! I wrote something! Sorry it took so long to write this, I've been playing WoW and it has taken my free time away, plus I've had a few things happening lately. This was supposed to be twice as long, and as it is this part is twice as long as what the previous parts were. I kind of finished this at a good spot so I hope this keeps you happy until I get the next part written. Don't worry, I promise I'll write it!

UPDATE (30/06/09) -- Spelling, grammar, and a few other tweaks.

UPDATE (12/12/09) -- Spelling, grammar, and a few other tweaks.

--

Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 5

--

Calm.

A feeling that should always accompany meditation, something that the draenei always struggled to attain. Yet, he persisted, knowing that if he didn't undertake this daily ritual he would lose himself. So many times in his younger years had he succumbed to the easier emotions: anger, fear, hatred, despair. Almost all of that was behind him now. Almost.

In his time on Azeroth, Anarchei had learnt a few things. The first was that he didn't like most people. Not because of who or what they were, but how they were, how they lived. All around him he witnessed the expression of the same emotions he analysed within himself daily, to understand them, and know where they came from. In so doing he was able to observe the world around him with clarity, seeing most people for what they really were, and he didn't like it. These emotions often led to what must be a universal constant: violence, and of course, the accompanying pain and suffering. Not particularly keen on experiencing said pain and suffering himself, he had often wondered why others would wish to inflict it on their fellows. The answer was simple: power. And the more power you had, the less consequences you would face should any retaliate against your evil. At least, that was what usually occured. Having observed many different races, he had reached the same conclusion for all of them. Even his own kind, been so good-hearted and willing to help those in need, were not exempt.

It began long ago with his adopted parents, witnessing first-hand just how cruel humans can be. A few months before he was to reach they age of majority, he had come to the realisation that there was something different about him, something that he did not see whilst living amongst humans. When he raised this issue with the only people he had loved in his life, he was met with fierce rejection, and for the first time he remembered, violence. It was his 'father' that dished out the physical abuse, his 'mother' served up a plate-full of the verbal kind. Of course, he was devastated, and naturally had little choice but to flee the only home he had ever known. How he managed to survive on his own after that was still a mystery.

Now, years later, he sat in a rather uncomfortable chair obviously not designed for draenei comfort. Sitting, thinking, and above all: waiting. The door across the room was still closed, and Anarchei had not heard a sound since it had clicked shut several hours ago. Inside that room was a sho'halu, or tauren in the common tongue, lying unconscious and gravely wounded. With him were several of the best healers of Azeroth and possibly beyond. Dalaran had to have the best, being stationed above Northrend while armies fought below. With these thoughts, the paladin thought back to why he couldn't heal the tauren himself. With all the advances in knowledge about the plague, many antidotes and methods of magic had been developed to combat the disease. He himself knew them all, and had used them all in trying to save the life of the sho'halu. Nonetheless, his efforts were in vain. This new strain from the Scourge must have been recently developed, perhaps by the hand of the Lich King himself. Just thinking about such evil incarnate made the sturdy draenei shudder. The last time he had encountered the Lich King had not been pleasant, to say the least.

The chair he sat on creaked, and not for the first time Anarchei wondered if he should have removed his armour before sitting down. However, his train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a door opening. Standing up swiftly as he realised what was happening, he watched as a line of people from various races stepped into the waiting room, and then out into the corridor beyond. None of them made any gesture, nor did they glance at the paladin, they just silently marched out of sight. Feeling a sudden cold in the pit of his stomach, he jumped slightly when he turned and was faced with familiar tauren druid.

"You need not worry, we removed the poison," said the bull, a metal jar in his hands. "We had to cut it out in the end. First time I've had to use stitches, the wound cannot be fully healed with magic."

"I see," Anarchei replied, sighing in relief. For a moment he was not sure if he should say anything, but his curiosity got the better of him. "What's in the jar, if I may ask?"

"You may indeed ask," said he druid, his voice deep. "Contained within this magical device is the evil we had to cut out of our friend in there. We will be keeping it safe and studying it extensively. This is indeed something new, and we need to find some way of quickly neutralising it. You were lucky getting him here when you did, most would have died and come back as an undead monstrosity."

Relieved, and his curiosity satisfied, all the draenei could do in response was nod.

"You can go see him now if you'd like, although he is still sleeping, and will not awake for several hours" offered the tauren, turning his head away for a moment as if considering something, then facing the draenei again. "It is late now, you will be hard-pressed to find a place to stay the night. There is a spare bed in the room, you are welcome to use it."

"Oh, no, I don't wish to impose," Anarchei replied, raising his hand in polite refusal. "I will make do."

"Nonsense!" bellowed the sho'halu, his voice almost making the paladin jump. "You have aided one of my brethren, and what is more, brought to our attention a new strain of plague. You are more than welcome, in fact you deserve it."

"Well, if you say so."

"I do say so," replied the druid, before lowering his voice. "Also, if you don't mind me saying so, you do need to bathe."

Raising his arm and taking a sniff, the draenei almost blushed. He didn't smell all that great, that battle earlier had only added to a few days worth of sweat and unwashed dirt.

"Come, I'll show you where you can wash."

With the tauren leading, Anarchei followed him out of the waiting room and down the corridor to a door with a water droplet painted on it. The druid opened it, revealing a room big enough for the largest sho'halu, a strange device attached to the ceiling, and a drain in the floor beneath it. On the wall near the door were racks with folded towels of various colours and sizes. The druid grabbed a purple one, which had the symbol of the Exodar embroidered upon it.

"You will find no need for soap, the shower will do everything for you," explained the tauren as he handed the towel to the draenei, who was peering into the room with a sense of child-like wonder. "Never seen one like this before I take it?"

Anarchei shook his head.

"It's pretty simple. Just turn that handle on the wall over there in the direction you want the temperature of the water to be. Red for hot, blue for cold. We find that having something like this makes cleaning our patients a lot easier, and it also helps when they start recovery and can do it themselves."

"I see," said the paladin. "Thank you."

"No problem," replied the tauren, before glancing to his side, noticing the appearance of his kaldorei apprentice, then turning to face the draenei once more. "My friend, I'm afraid I have to leave you now, this analysis cannot wait any longer. I trust you can look after yourself?"

Receiving a nod from Anarchei, the druid nodded as well and departed with this apprentice in tow, leaving the draenei alone in the hallway with a towel in his hand.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

Summary: A draenei paladin traveling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.

Author's note: This one is my biggest installment yet, hope you enjoy! This part marks the end of the first third of the total story I have envisioned. Any mistakes (spelling, grammar, etc) are my fault, and I would appreciate it if you pointed them out so I can correct them.

UPDATE (30/06/09) -- Spelling, grammar, and a few other tweaks. Thanks to RavenSama from y!G for pointing out some errors.

--

Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 6

--

Sigh.

The breath that flowed from the draenei's mouth instantly forming a visible cloud, and almost as quickly disappearing in the frigid air. Anarchei had just come to the conclusion that he could not remove his armour in the shower, as it would not do well to have it get wet. He hated it when his armour got wet, it took hours to dry, and it felt horrible trying to move about in it. He had also concluded that it would not be a good idea to strip it off and leave it in the corridor. Who knows what could happen to it. He trusted the healers, but it was still a public place, and the armour was worth a lot of gold, especially to those desperate enough to steal it. Realising he had no other choice, he turned and marched down the corridor back to room with the tauren whose life he had recently helped save.

Closing the door behind him as quietly as possible, Anarchei glanced momentarily at the resting shaman, before shifting himself behind the privacy screen beside the opposite bed. He proceeded to remove his armour as carefully as he could, not wishing to disturb the recovering shu'halo in the bed across the room. Feeling slightly awkward stripping down to barely anything with another being present, the draenei resolved that he should not worry, after all, the tauren was asleep and would not know. Still, Anarchei couldn't help feel that he was somehow been disrespectful.

As the last of his armour was removed, and arrayed on the bed neatly, Anarchei slowly peeled off his skin-tight under-armour and folded it neatly, its magically-imbued material unsoiled from days of action. To assuage his lingering doubts, the draenei had decided that he would keep his trunks on, to at least make him feel a little bit better about undressing in the same room as a recovering patient. Picking up the small bag attached to his belt, Anarchei reached inside, pulling from its magically-enlarged depths a clean pair of trunks to replace his slightly soiled ones, then encircled his waist with the towel. Suddenly, a sound passed through the thin white canvas of the privacy screen, a sound that was an unmistakable groan. Freezing, Anarchei turned to stare in the direction of the tauren shaman. Another groan, and this time the sound of a voice.

"Is someone there?" came the enquiry in Taur-ahe, the native tongue of the shu'halo.

Not wanting to keep the tauren waiting, Anarchei replied in the same language. "Yes, I'm here."

"Why are you hiding?" the shaman asked, his voice still hoarse but getting a bit stronger.

"I'm not hiding," replied the paladin, holding tightly to the towel around his waist in one hand while grasping his clean underwear in the other, he stepped out from behind the screen. "I was preparing myself for cleansing."

The tauren, still lying on the bed but with his head turned to face the draenei, widened his eyes at the sudden appearance of a someone he did not expect.

"You're...you're draenei," exclaimed the shu'halo, struggling to get up but grimacing in pain and falling back to the mattress.

"You shouldn't try to move just yet," Anarchei said urgently, stepping forward as if to help but halting at the glare he received from the tauren.

"Where am I? What are you doing here? And how is it that you can speak my native tongue?" the line of questions poured forth, their intensity made greater by the frustration the tauren was experiencing at his situation.

"You are in one of the houses of healing in Dalaran," explained the draenei, his tone even but gentle. "I am here because I needed a place to change out of my armour. As for how I came to speak your language, that's a long story that you probably don't want to hear right now. Suffice it to say, I can speak over twenty languages fluently, a necessity if you travel on this or any other world."

"Well," grumbled the bull. "That answers some of my questions, but not the one about why you are here. Last I heard, only patients used the cleansing rooms in the healing houses. You are no patient."

"Yes, that's true, I'm not," Anarchei sighed. "I'm the one that brought you here, saved your life as a matter of fact. As a way of thanking me, I have been offered a chance to clean myself up and a place to sleep for the night."

"You saved my life, huh? And what is the name of my rescuer?"

"My name is Anarchei. And yours?"

"Stronghoof."

Not knowing what to say next, an unnerving silence settled on the pair for a few moments, before Stronghoof broke it.

"Well, you better hurry up and go clean up. No offence, but you do kind of smell."

Chuckling softly in response, Anarchei nodded and reluctantly departed. The walk down the corridor wasn't entirely pleasant. Thoughts of the recent discussion and the frigid temperature clouded the draenei's thoughts, his only consolation that he had hooves, so he didn't have to suffer the cold stone floor.

Shutting the door behind him, the paladin was again faced with a contraption that he had not yet had the opportunity of using, despite his numerous and far-reaching travels. Placing the towel and clean trunks on a hook on the wall, the draenei removed his soiled underwear and threw them to the floor. Turning to the shower, he stepped beneath it and turned the handle on the wall in the direction indicating warmth. Instantly a flowery-scented rainstorm poured from the ceiling, over his naked form, and down to the floor.

Anarchei sighed with relief, feeling the grime and sweat of several days falling off his body. Raising his hands, he began feeling along the lines of his muscled form. Touching his pectorals, biceps, abdominals, quadriceps, and strong tail, the draenei massaged the soapy water into his light blue-tinted skin. Enjoying the sensation of cleaning himself, the feel of his bulging muscles, the draenei almost didn't notice the tingle in his nether region. Stopping himself when he realised what he was doing to himself, Anarchei grasped the handle and turned it to shut off the shower. Nothing immediately happened, except that the water no longer smelt of anything. Realising that it was rinsing his body of the soap, Anarchei efficiently as possible rubbed off the remaining soap. In a matter of seconds the fall of water ended, leaving a wall of steam in its wake. Carefully stepping through the fog, the paladin gently pulled the towel off its hook on the wall, leaving his clean trunks hanging there as he quickly dried himself. Satisfied, Anarchei threw the wet towel to the floor next to his dirty trunks and grabbed the blue-green underwear off the hook and carefully threaded his hooves through them, not wanting to get them wet. Pulling them all the way up to his waist, and sighing in relief, the draenei reached down and picked up the used towel and underwear. What sort of guest would he be if he didn't clean up after himself?

Exiting the room, and shutting the door behind him, Anarchei proceeded back down the hallway. Upon reaching the room, the first thing he noticed was that the tauren was sitting up in bed, naked expect for his underwear, his legs dangling over the side with his head in his hands. The sounds of sobbing and the sight of wet fur only added to Anarchei's haste as he rushed forward, dropping his possessions on the floor halfway to the bed. Crouching in front of the bull, the draenei gently placed his hands on Stronghoof's shaking shoulders.

"Why are you crying?" Anarchei asked, his voice making the usual roughness of Taur-ahe sound almost musical.

"Why did you save my life?" asked the shuddering tauren.

"I would have done the same for any other," the draenei replied.

"That is not what I meant," Stronghoof explained.

"What do you mean?" Anarchei enquired gently.

Hands falling from his eyes to rest at his sides, knocking the draenei's arms off his shoulders, the tauren glared at the draenei with a look of resentment.

"I wanted to die," the shu'halu struggled to say. "Why didn't you let me die?"

Momentarily stunned to silence, his mouth slightly agape, Anarchei tried to respond, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why would you want to kill yourself?"

"Someone I loved with all my heart is dead," Stronghoof replied, fresh tears forming in his eyes. "I don't want to go on living without them."

"I am truly sorry," Anarchei apologised, an ache he never wanted to feel again forming. "Who was it that you lost?"

"My mate."

Anarchei understood. The shu'halo took a mate for life, not like other races where one could fall out of love, ending a marriage with divorce. A tauren who truly loved another, was bound to that other for life, a bond that was stronger than the most powerful magic. It was a devastating loss when one of a pair departed life. Easier to bear in older age, when one had become accustomed to the knowledge that death would soon take them, but not so easy when one is young, new to life and love.

Not wanting to cause the bull more pain, but knowing that keeping one's feelings bottled up was worse, Anarchei plucked up the courage to ask Stronghoof the question.

"What happened?"

"My mate was killed at the incident at the Wrathgate."

"I'm sorry. I was there, I saw it happen," Anarchei said. Not wanting to continue down that avenue, the draenei thought it better to talk about who his mate was, rather than dwell on such a horrible memory such as the Wrathgate, however he was beaten to the punch.

"My mate was a warrior," the shaman explained. "Huln Stonebreaker."

"But that's a male name..."

Stronghoof nodded, sniffing. "That's right. If you have a problem with that you can leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," Anarchei replied.

Abruptly, the tauren stood, his massive bulk leaving the draenei little choice but to stand also and step back.

"You would be foolish to want to be around someone like me."

"What do you mean?" Anarchei asked.

Stronghoof stepped forward menacingly, Anarchei backing up, not wanting to give the tauren any reason to get physical.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I'm considered a freak by most people!" explained the tauren, his voice getting louder. "Maybe because we belong to opposite factions!"

"None of that matters to me."

"I don't believe you," Stronghoof said, stalking forward again. "Put on your armour and leave. Now!"

"I'm not going anywhere, please, just calm down."

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Stronghoof's fist lashed out and punched Anarchei in the jaw, knocking him back a few steps.

"Get out!" yelled the tauren, Anarchei standing his ground and shaking his head in refusal.

Tears now falling freely, the shu'halo raised his fist again, but slowly lowered it, his eyes closing. Confronted with a sobbing tauren, the draenei slowly stepped forward after a few moments and gently laced his arms around the crying bull, who proceeded to sob harder. Anarchei emphasised with the poor creature.

"Everyone had lost someone in all this fighting," he gently spoke into the tauren's chest, Stronghoof a head and half taller than him. "I lost my parents when I was little. I grew up as an orphan until I was adopted by humans. I know it isn't the same thing, but I can understand what it feels like, been alone."

Still in an embrace, his tears no longer coming, Stronghoof pulled back slightly to look down at the draenei, face-to-face.

"Thank you."

Separating, the tauren carefully found his way back to the bed and laid down, Anarchei helping pull the blankets up to cover his near-naked form.

"I'm just going to get some clothes on," explained the draenei, Stronghoof nodding.

Anarchei retreated behind the privacy screen and pulled on his black under-armour, its material clinging tightly to his skin, clearly outlining his defined body, while at the same time providing warmth. Emerging from behind the screen, the draenei found a chair against a wall and dragged it over to the side of Stronghoof's bed, than sat down. For a while neither said a thing. Unable to think of anything else to ask, but thinking that the worst was over, Anarchei broke the silence.

"Why did you want to kill yourself in battle?"

Sighing, the tauren replied. "I couldn't bring myself to take my life with my own blade, nor with poison. So the next best thing was to go out in a blaze of glory," Stronghoof explained, then paused, as if contemplating his next words. "But now that I've found someone who I can talk to, I don't feel so reluctant to end it all."

Weaving his hand around Stronghoof's three-fingered hand, Anarchei smiled slightly. "Why haven't you spoken to anyone else before now?"

"For most of my people, two males in love with each other is shameful and disgusting, and any who engage in such bonds are to be shunned. Because Stonebreaker and I had such a bond, we were rejected by most of our people. There was really no one I could speak to about what happened, there was no one who could offer me what I sought."

"The same prejudice exists with many of my own people," Anarchei responded. "And despite growing up with a human family who shared the same dislike of same-sex bonding, I still knew deep down that there was nothing wrong with being in love with someone of the same sex."

"You have no idea how much of a relief that is to me," Stronghoof expressed, sighing in relief. "You have no idea how much I've needed a shoulder to cry on. Thank you. For everything."

"You're welcome my friend," Anarchei replied. "Any time you need that shoulder, just ask."

Smiling for the first time that night, the tauren's eyes dimmed, eyelids closing, gently falling asleep, exhausted from the day's troubles. The paladin sat by his side, hand-in-hand, through the night.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

Summary: A draenei paladin traveling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.

Author's note: Okay, yes, I know. I'm bad. This part of the story has taken me so long because I have been at university for the past few months. I just wrote it now, after having the draft sitting around collecting dust. Hope you enjoy what I've written so far, and I hope you continue watching out for new parts, as this story isn't over yet.

UPDATE (08/12/09) -- Revised the story, corrected a continuity error.

--

Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 7

--

Silence prevailed in the darkness.

At least, it did for a while. The tauren in the bed across the room from the draenei was talking in his sleep. Moaning, crying, pleading for his mate to come back. Anarchei was awakened by the sounds coming from Stronghoof. Throwing the covers off himself, Anarchei sat up in bed, looking over at the tauren across from him, noticing the sheets that had fallen off Stronghoof during the night. The big bull was shifting about on the bed, his large hooves occasionally kicking. Anarchei stood up and walked over to Stronghoof, gently placing his hands on the tauren's furry shoulder and beefy arm, shaking them slightly. Not having any effect, he then leaned over Stronghoof and grasped both shoulders and shook them harder.

"Stronghoof," he said firmly. "Wake up."

The dark-furred tauren's eyes shot wide open, and sat up quickly, knocking the draenei back. Breathing hard and appearing unsure of where he was, Stronghoof saw Anarchei's glowing blue eyes.

"Are you a death knight?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Have you come to finish the job?"

Anarchei, startled by the tauren's words, waved his hand and a small sphere of light appeared mid air, illuminating the room like a candle.

"No, I'm not," the draenei explained. "I'm the paladin that rescued you, remember?"

Stronghoof breathed a sigh of relief and fell back to the bed, wincing in pain as he did so.

"Damn it, I forgot!" exclaimed the tauren, a three-fingered hand holding the wound on his side.

"Can I have a look?" Anarchei asked.

Stronghoof nodded.

The draenei carefully checked the wound. "There is no bleeding, the stitches have held."

Again the tauren nodded his head, and with a tired sigh, fell back to sleep. Seeing this, Anarchei picked the sheets off the floor and pulled them back over Stronghoof, sparing a moment to look down at the face of the sleeping tauren. Turning away, the draenei went back to his own bed, and before falling asleep he waved his hand. The light vanished.

--

Morning had arrived.

Anarchei woke up to see sunlight filtering through a window. Glancing over at Stronghoof, he saw that the sheets still covered the still sleeping tauren. Assuming that the bull had slept better after he had calmed the tauren down earlier, Anarchei got out of bed and walked up to the door, opening it and sneaking his head out to see if anyone was around. The corridor was deserted. Glancing back at the tauren, the draenei decided that it might be a good idea to see about getting some food. Stepping out and shutting the door behind him, Anarchei began to walk down the corridor, looking for someone. On his right, a door suddenly opened to reveal the kaldorei from earlier, who was slightly startled by the appearance of the draenei, his glowing golden eyes widening.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"No problem," the night elf waved it off. "I'm kind of used to big guys appearing out of nowhere. Can I help you with anything?"

"Yes, actually. I was wondering whether there was any food that I could get for myself and Stronghoof."

"Yeah there is. We have a kitchen downstairs with a pantry stocked with food, and a daytime chef. But that is meant for patients only...however since your are our guest you can have some too."

"I can pay..."

"Sorry, my master told me not to accept any gold from you."

"Well in that case, can I at least cook the food myself instead of burdening the chef?"

"You will need to take that up with the chef, it's their kitchen after all. Follow me."

The kaldorei walked down the corridor, leading the draenei through a door off the hall that took them down a stairway into a cellar, which was in reality a fully stocked kitchen. Amongst the tables for food preparation and the fires burning against the wall, was a relatively short human female wearing a tall white hat that Anarchei recognised as something a chef usually wore.

"Hey, this is the draenei that brought in the tauren last night. Any chance he can use the kitchen to prepare some food?"

"Yeah sure, so long as the big guy doesn't get in my way. I am busy preparing breakfast for the other patients."

"Excellent," the night elf responded, turning to face Anarchei. "I need to see to some patients, I'll see you later."

Without leaving the draenei a chance to thank him, the kaldorei was gone. Shrugging, Anarchei turned back to the kitchen, the chef busy moving about the kitchen preparing food and cooking. Walking over to the pantry, the draenei did some exploring, discovering a large box that was cool to the touch. Grasping the handle, Anarchei pulled the door open, revealing shelves of chilled food like orange juice, eggs, cream, water, and butter. He grabbed a few of these items, closing the door to keep the cool air inside. The draenei wasn't sure, but he thought that there was some magic keeping that box and everything in it cold. Moving along, Anarchei also picked up some dried powder made from vegetable protein, various spices in small jars, some tomatoes, and a bottle of vegetable oil.

Using a half empty table, the draenei mixed the powder with the spices, added some water and eggs which formed the mixture into a dough-like substance, and then rolled it out into sausages. He then proceeded to break some more eggs into a bowl and whipped up the eggs with some cream, and cut up the tomatoes into thick slices. Using some saucepans, Anarchei cooked the scrambled eggs, veggie sausages, and tomatoes, adding vegetable oil to the pans to help cook the food and prevent it from sticking to the pans. Once everything was cooked, he put everything on to two plates, then placed the plates on a large platter with the jug of orange juice and two glasses. Before leaving, Anarchei threw the mess of used bowls and utensils into a sink, which began to magically clean everything with soapy water, and then placing everything on a rack to dry.

"Thanks for the use of your kitchen," the draenei said to the chef, while grabbing some utensils and the platter.

"Not a problem," she replied. "You aren't a bad cook, and you don't leave a mess. So no regrets here."

Not sure how to take the human's weird sense of humor, the draenei merely nodded and left. The trip back to the room was uneventful, except for the few times that Anarchei nearly dropped the platter of food. Walking on hooves did seem to be a bit of a disadvantage at times.

--

Stronghoof opened his eyes.

He was in a room in the house of healing, lying on a bed. He remembered the events of the previous day. His attempted suicide, his rescuer, last night...

The tauren's thoughts were interupted by the arrival of a tall blue-skinned draenei carrying a platter of food and drink.

"What's this?" Stronghoof asked.

"Breakfast," Anarchei smiled. "Hope you're hungry enough to try my cooking."

"Eh, it wasn't necessary for you to go to the trouble," the tauren said.

"It was no trouble at all," the draenei explained, placing the platter on his empty bed. "There's plenty of food here for both of us."

Anarchei poured some orange juice into each glass, then picked up a plate and a glass, and took it over to Stronghoof. He placed the plate and glass on a miniature table that was used to sit across a patient's lap while they sat up in bed. About to place it in front of Stronghoof, he realised that the tauren wasn't sitting up. He put the table down and moved over to the bulky bull, and helped assist the tauren to sit up properly with some pillows to support his back, the draenei's muscles bulging at the strain to lift the tauren into position.

"Whoa!" Stronghoof exclaimed. "I didn't realise draenei were so strong! You practically lifted my entire weight!"

"Well, if I wasn't as strong as I am I wouldn't have been able to lift you on to the back of a netherdrake, and hence you may not be here," Anarchei explained while he placed the mini-table on to the tauren's lap.

The tauren eyed the knife and fork, looking unsure as to how to use them.

"Have you ever used a knife and fork before?" the draenei asked kindly.

"Well, my people do have them, it's just that I've never needed to use them before."

Anarchei proceeded to demonstrate how to use them by cutting up a bit of sausage and then picked up the cut piece with the fork and handed it to Stronghoof.

"This is how you get food from your plate to your mouth without getting your hands messy," he explained.

Stronghoof took the fork, stuck the bit of sausage in his mouth, and chewed.

"What is the sausage made from?" the tauren enquired after he had swallowed. "It tastes a bit different."

"Well, it's made from vegetable protein, not meat."

"Why's that?"

"I'm not like most people. See, I'm what some would call a vegetarian. It means I don't eat meat."

"But if you don't eat meat, how is it that you are so big and strong?"

"It's a common misconception that meat makes you big and strong. It's the protein that does it. For me and other people who share my view, it's more ethical to get my protein this way instead of killing an animal for it."

Stronghoof nodded his head and continued to eat the food. Anarchei then picked up his own plate and proceeded to eat in the chair next to the tauren's bed.

"You know, this tastes better than anything I've tasted before," Stronghoof complemented.

"Thanks," Anarchei responded, smiling.

Both ate quietly for a while until the tauren cleared his throat.

"How did you become a vegetarian?" Stronghoof asked.

"A friend of mine introduced me to the idea."

"Who was this friend?"

"A tauren," Anarchei explained. "She was the one that taught me how to speak taurahe."

"What?" Stronghoof exclaimed, surprised.

"She was a druid of the Cenarion Circle. I spent many months in Moonglade a while ago."

"What were you doing in Moonglade?"

"Well, after I ran away from my adopted home, I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life."

"Hold on. You ran away from home? And you were adopted?"

Anarchei chuckled. "Sorry, I forgot that I hadn't told you this. You see, my real parents were killed in the slaughter on Draenor. I was only a newborn at the time, so I don't really remember them. Anyway, somehow I escaped death and I was found by a group of human soldiers who had wandered into the area looking for survivors. They brought me back with them to Azeroth before the portal exploded."

"Oh, I'm so sorry."

"It's all right," Anarchei waved him off, giving the tauren a smile to show that he wasn't upset about the ordeal. "Perhaps if I was a little older at the time I would have some memory of what happened, but all I have to go by is what others have told me. Which leads my story to my adoption by a human family. You see, they couldn't have children of their own, something biological I think, they never explained it well. They wanted to adopt a human child, but all the children at the orphanage were either draenei children or teenage humans. They wanted a baby, and I was the only one there. They didn't want to wait any longer, so that's how I ended up with them. For the most part they were kind and compassionate people. They never struck me or yelled at me, well, at least, not until that night I told them a secret about myself. They didn't want me to live with them any more, and I didn't want to be near them any more, so I ran away."

"Why would they do that to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now."

Stronghoof nodded. "That's fine. Tell me about Moonglade."

"Right," Anarchei continued. "Well, I wandered around until I found myself on a boat to Kalimdor. After a long trek through the mountains I came upon Moonglade. I met a druid who thought that I may have latent druidic abilities, and he took me in for training. But after he realised that I had no talent for druidic magic, he asked me to leave. However, another druid, a female tauren, took pity on me and took me in. She rarely spoke common except with other druids, so I started using taurahe words. Eventually she started helping me speak the language.

It was during this time that I learnt that not many people in Moonglade ate animal flesh, and after hearing the old druid's arguments against eating meat, I agreed to try going without. It stuck. But she was getting older, and was nearing death. I looked after her as payment for the good things she did for me. On her deathbed, she bestowed her worldly goods to me. After she died, I didn't have much reason to stay in Moonglade, so I sold the druids home and most of her possessions. I left with a few sacks of gold and a few books."

"Sorry," Stronghoof condoled. "I shouldn't have asked."

"No, it's quite alright. It was years ago, and we never really got that close. Still, she was a good friend."

After a moment, the tauren couldn't hold it back any longer. "One thing I don't get. Why would anyone think that you would have druidic abilities? I mean, draenei aren't exactly known to possess such powers."

"It wasn't the druidic powers the druid sensed, but rather my ability to harness the Light."

"What if something like that happened to me?" Stronghoof pondered in response.

"Why do you think that?"

"Ever since I reached maturity, I was a warrior. There had never been any druidic or shamanistic potential sensed within me. It was only a year into my mateship with another warrior that it was discovered that I had the ability to harness the power of the shaman."

Anarchei nodded. "The difference between us is that you could actually be a shaman because you could use those abilities, while I cannot be a druid because I cannot use those abilities."

"But maybe I don't have the abilities necessary for shamanism after all. I can no longer hear the spirits."

"They will come back in time," Anarchei offered, to which Stronghoof shook his head.

"The spirits have abandoned me for my attempt at suicide," the tauren's voice almost breaking.

Their food mostly eaten but now forgotten on the table, Anarchei tried to comfort Stronghoof. He placed his hand on the tauren's forearm, but it was no use. The burly tauren had begun to cry.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

Summary: A draenei paladin travelling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.

Author's note: Yep, another chapter has arrived. Some more about the characters is revealed, and a new horizon is ready to explore. Let's see where this goes shall we?

--

Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 8

--

Wince.

The tauren cringed at the touch of the kaldorei druid inspecting his wound. A few moments ago the night elf had come to check on his progress. Watching a few steps behind the elf was a large bulky tauren, himself also a druid and the kaldorei's mentor. So far he hadn't said anything, which suggested that the elf had done everything right so far. At the wounded tauren's side was another large being, not as big as a tauren, but still rather impressive nonetheless. The draenei sat on a wooden chair not designed for his size, holding the three-fingered hand of the tauren with his human-like one.

"The wound appears to have healed," explained the night elf, prodding the tauren's side again. "Seems to be a bit tender though."

"I noticed," the wounded tauren said bluntly after wincing again, his grip tightening on the draenei's hand.

"Do you think he is well enough to start moving around?" the draenei asked, giving the tauren a reassuring look at the increased pressure he felt when the tauren squeezed harder.

"I don't see why not," the kaldorei responded. "But I would like to remove the stitches first."

After receiving a nod from his mentor, the night elf pulled out some scissors and began his work. In a matter of minutes, the stitches were gone, leaving a patch of skin that looked red and very raw.

"Unfortunately, there may be a lifelong scar," the elf explained, discarding the bloody stitches into a bag. "But your other wounds have disappeared completely, thanks to your friend's quick thinking."

"The Light tends to heal better than other methods," the draenei explained. "Not always, of course, but often. But then you know this already."

The tauren standing behind the elf nodded. "Different magic works in different ways. Nature is a powerful ally, as any druid would know. Still, it isn't always the best way to heal a wound. Efficient, yes, but not always thorough."

"So you really think I'm ready to start walking?" the tauren lying on the bed asked. "I mean, I was near death yesterday as I understand it. I thought it would take days to heal."

"I'm not sure how you were able to mend so quickly," the tauren druid replied. "Perhaps your close proximity to a Light-wielder over the past few hours has had an effect. What do you think Anarchei?"

"It is possible," the draenei responded. "Some have speculated that some followers of the Light emit an aura that changes with their mood. Perhaps that is why."

"Perhaps," the tauren druid mused. "At any rate, Stronghoof appears well enough. Maybe you would like to assist him in getting around for a bit, at least until he can do it on his own comfortably. I'd have someone here do it, but we are a bit short-staffed at the moment. The front-line requires more healers it seems."

"That won't be a problem," Anarchei agreed.

"Good. I have other patients, as do you Surfal. Come."

The kaldorei nodded and turned to follow his mentor out of the room.

"Surfal?" Anarchei asked, walking up to the night elf.

"Yes?" Surfal turned.

"We were never properly introduced. I'm Anarchei."

Looking down at the draenei's outstretched hand, the kaldorei took it and shook, looking back at Anarchei's face. "Surfal."

"Thanks for your help," the paladin said as he released the elf's hand, smiling at Surfal.

"No problem," the druid replied, smiling back. "I'll see you guys later."

Giving a little wave at Stronghoof on the bed, the kaldorei turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Turning back to his new friend, Anarchei saw that Stronghoof was trying to get out of bed.

"You sure you're ready for this?" Anarchei exclaimed as he rushed forward to assist the tauren.

"I think I can manage," Stronghoof replied, wincing as he moved. "I did get out of bed last night without any help."

"Yeah," the draenei agreed, placing his hands on the tauren's broad shoulders to prevent him from getting up. "But you were pumped full of adrenaline that time. You didn't feel the pain. Now you can."

"I guess," the tauren acknowledged, sighing as Anarchei released him. "I just don't want to be in this bed any more."

"Okay," Anarchei nodded. "Will you at least let me stay close in case you need a hand?"

Taking the tauren's nod as agreement, the draenei stood by as Stronghoof placed both hands on the edge of the bed and pushed, trying to stand up on his own, his teeth gritting as did so. Groaning, the weakened tauren managed to stand up.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, it hurts a bit, but I've had worse."

Anarchei knew that his friend was lying. Despite his outward appearance, the draenei knew that the tauren was in agony. He had seen other survivors of the plague, heard their screams as the evil burned them alive from the inside. The reason why no one ever heard of survivors was because most of them ended up crippled, unable to walk, some unable to move at all. Many ended up taking their own lives, not wanting to live with the pain any more. The fact that Stronghoof wanted to live, and was able to stand at all was a testament to his strong will. It was probably that same courage that led him to attempt suicide.

The paladin was shaken out of his thoughts by the sight of the tauren taking small steps forward. Quickly catching up, Anarchei made sure to stay at his side the whole time, ready at a moments notice to jump in and catch his friend if he were to fall. But he didn't fall. One lap of the room later, the tauren was breathing heavily, and moaning from the pain, sitting on the bed again.

"I think that's enough for now," the draenei said.

"No argument here," the tauren replied between breaths.

--

Night had fallen.

Standing at the entrance to the house of healing were a few tauren, a kaldorei, and a draenei. One of the tauren had a walking stick in his hand, clutching it tightly to keep him standing. The draenei was dressed in his armour, which shone even in the low light. The tauren wore a shirt and trousers, his armour too heavy to handle at that moment.

"Your recovery has been remarkable Stronghoof," Surfal expressed with a smile. "We don't want to see you in here again any time soon, okay?"

"Sure thing Surfal," Stronghoof replied.

"Farewell," the tauren druid said before turning and heading back down the corridor.

"Don't mind him," Surfal explained with a grin. "He isn't big on goodbyes."

"I noticed," Anarchei responded, pausing. "So I guess we'll be going now."

"About that. Where are you going to stay tonight?"

"I have a room in an inn."

"Ah, good. Well, I'll see you then?"

"Maybe. Might be travelling for a while. We'll see."

"Oh, okay. Well, goodbye."

"Farewell Surfal," Anarchei said.

"Bye," Stronghoof said.

Once the night elf had vanished down the hallway, the pair faced the small crowd of tauren that had gathered, the same tauren that had helped carry Stronghoof the night he was injured. One of them stepped forward.

"I think I speak for all of us here when I say how sorry we all are for how we treated you Stronghoof. We didn't mean the things we said. And for your mate, we offer our condolences. He was a great warrior, we are proud to have fought along side him in battle."

All at once the tauren saluted in typical shu'halo fashion, turned about, and exited the building, walking down the street, their hooves echoing off the stone ground. Stronghoof simply starred at the space they has just vacated.

"Are you alright Stronghoof?" Anarchei asked facing his friend, his hand on the shu'halo's shoulder.

"Yes, I'm fine," Stronghoof replied, his eyes moist. "I just wasn't expecting that. I never thought I'd see the day when my kind would stop living in the past and embrace those like myself."

"People change I guess," the draenei shrugged.

"I guess," the tauren agreed. "So, which inn do you have a room at?"

"The Legerdomain Lounge."

Stronghoof nodded as they exited the building. The stars shone brightly as they made they walked, Stronghoof moving at a slower pace than what he was used to, his cane adding to the sound their hooves made on the cobbled street. Overhead, a drake was flying low over the rooftops of the city, weaving it's way around the towers, before dropped from sight in the vicinity of Krasus' Landing.

"Stronghoof, what do you say we make a bit of a detour first?" Anarchei asked, a smile on his face.

"Sure, but why?" a puzzled Stronghoof replied.

"I want you to meet someone," the draenei explained.

As the tauren almost struggled to keep up with the excited draenei, he wondered who it was his friend would want him to meet. They made their way through the streets of Dalaran until they found some stairs that led up to Krasus' Landing. Using Anarchei for support, Stronghoof managed to get to the top of the stairs. On the landing were a few soldiers for the Alliance and Horde, as well as some mages of the Kirin Tor. In the middle of the circular courtyard was a cobalt netherdrake.

"Jorus!" Anarchei called, waving at his winged friend.

The drake walked over, his wings curled around his body to protect them from the ground.

"Stronghoof, this is Jorus," Anarchei introduced the tauren to the drake. "He's the one that flew us here to Dalaran after you got hurt."

Taking a moment to take this in, Stronghoof stepped forward, leaning heavily on the thick walking stick. "I can't thank you enough for your help Jorus. I'd give you a hug, but I'm not sure how to give one to a drake," Stronghoof offered with a smile.

"Maybe I can arrange that," Jorus said before his form changed before their very eyes, one moment a netherdrake, the next what appeared to be a tall sindorei with long flowing blue-tinged hair.

For a moment Stronghoof stood still in shock, not sure what had just happened in front of his eyes, his mouth slightly agape at the sight.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Jorus apologised, his blue glowing eyes slightly wider than before. "I didn't realise you had never seen a drake transform before."

"Eh, what?" Stronghoof almost stuttered.

"Most dragons can take the form of mortals," Jorus explained, glancing at Anarchei as he said this. "I guess I could have told you that before I made the change."

"I guess..."

After a pause, Jorus perked up. "So, is your offer for a hug still available?" the elf inquired, a grin on his rather handsome face.

Not getting a response, Jorus stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the tauren, the taller being coming to his senses and returning the embrace. "Thank you."

"Anytime," the elf replied, releasing his hold on Stronghoof and stepping back. "So Anarchei, when do we make our next move?"

"Next move?" the shu'halo asked, looking at his friend with a confused look on his face.

"I probably should have told you this earlier Stronghoof, but I don't exactly plan on staying in Dalaran for very long," Anarchei explained.

"Why's that?" Stronghoof inquired.

"This isn't my home. I was only here to find materials for crafting armour and weapons. When I was finished here I was going to return to my home on Draenor."

"Draenor?"

"It's called Outland these days," Jorus explained, a bit annoyed at the name change.

"So you are leaving soon?" the tauren asked, his head drooping at the realisation.

"Of course not," the draenei explained. "I'm going to make sure you are alright first."

"Oh," Stronghoof responded.

"You can come with me if you want," Anarchei offered.

"Really?" Stronghoof asked.

"Yes, really," Anarchei replied with a smile, before he was almost knocked off his feet by the overjoyed mass of the tauren as he collided with him for a hug.

"For a moment there I thought you were going to leave me," the shu'halo spoke into the pointed ear of the draenei.

"I'd never leave a friend in need."

--

Two large hooved beings waved as a netherdrake flew off for another bout of hunting the beasts of Northrend. The tauren and draenei turned and headed down the stairs that led to Dalaran proper, the tauren needing some help from his draenei friend, the muscles of his body straining with the effort of holding up the large bull. Once on the relatively flat street, the shu'halo managed to walk on his own with the aid of his rather large cane.

"So, what did you think of Jorus?" the draenei asked.

"He's nice," the tauren replied. "A bit weird though."

"Dragons do have their quirks," Anarchei explained.

"Well, since he's the first dragon I've ever met, I'll take your word for it," Stronghoof said.

"Really? He'd the first you've ever seen?"

The shu'halo nodded.

"Huh..."

As they walked down the street, a draenei in warrior armour stepped up to them.

"I see your buddy here is alive," the warrior snarled at Anarchei, his fangs clearly visible. "Going to go have some fun with him now, hmm?"

Anarchei frowned and walked past him, Stronghoof at his side with a confused look on his face.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" the warrior grabbed Anarchei by the arm and jerked him round, only to have his face meet the paladin's fist. The draenei literally flew backwards and hit the stone wall of a building before slumping to the ground, still conscious but dizzy.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" Anarchei growled, standing over the warrior. "Got it?"

The draenei warrior nodded, holding the side of his face with his hand. Anarchei turned back to Stronghoof and continued walking down the street, the tauren barely keeping up.

"What just happened?"

"Some people never change."

--

Swish.

The room at the Legerdomain Lounge was rather large. In fact, it seemed to be more of an apartment than a mere room in an inn. In what must have been the common area was a sofa and a couple of armchairs surrounding a low table with some books lying atop it. Sitting on one of the armchairs, Anarchei had his arms crossed and a frown on his face. Lying on the sofa, Stronghoof watched the swishing tail of the draenei as he was lost in his thoughts.

"What did that warrior mean when he said 'going to have some fun with him now'?" Stronghoof asked.

"He thought that I was taking you somewhere so we could have sex with you," Anarchei explained, his frown deepening.

"But...why would he think that?" the tauren inquired, still unsure what his friend meant.

"Because I'm like you," Anarchei replied, the draenei's frown now gone.

"Like me?"

"Yes, I'm attracted to males."

"Oh...I had no idea."

"It's not your fault. I didn't plan on telling you, at least, not until you were ready."

Stronghoof nodded. "I understand. I don't think I was ready to know right now."

"Sorry," Anarchei apologised, placing his hands on the arms of the chair.

"You don't need to be sorry," Stronghoof offered, sitting up on the sofa with a grunt. "I would have figured it out eventually."

Anarchei nodded. "I guess."

A short silence followed, both lost in their thoughts, both not looking at the other, both unsure how to proceed. Suddenly a soft glow filled the candle-lit room. Anarchei looked around, his eyes settling on the tauren across from him. Stronghoof was emitting the glow, but he wasn't aware of it, his eyes closed as he leant back on the sofa.

"Stronghoof," the draenei called gently.

"Yeah?" the shu'halo replied softly.

"You're glowing."

The tauren's eyes shot open. He noticed the glow, brought his hands up to his eyes and confirmed it.

"Why am I glowing?" Stronghoof asked, his eyes wide and his breathing getting deeper.

"I don't know," Anarchei replied as he stood up and kneeled in front of the tauren, reaching his hands out to touch Stronghoof's own. "May I?"

Stronghoof nodded. Anarchei proceeded to hold the shu'halo's hands in his own, his eyes closed in concentration. After a short period of time, he nodded.

"I know why you are glowing."

After a short pause, Stronghoof grew nervous. "Why am I glowing? Tell me."

"It's the Light," Anarchei explained, a smile on his face as he looked into the eyes of his friend. "You are channelling the Light."


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

Summary: A draenei paladin traveling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.

Author's note: The next part is here! This one is a bit longer than usual, because I was trying to fit in a lot of stuff from the plan/draft I wrote for it. I hope you enjoy it, and stay tuned for more, because I have written up a plan/draft for the rest of the story. Yes, I know how it ends. No, I'm not going to tell you yet.

--

Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 9

--

Light.

A religion to some, a philosophy to many, the Light is a powerful force that exists within the universe. For all the beliefs of morals, very few had unlocked the truth of the Light, and those that knew the truth were unable to share it with others. Those that took the Light as a matter of faith were least likely to welcome the truth. Those that were more grounded in reality were more likely to accept the truth, however not many were able to grasp it. The simple reality was that the Light was like any other force in the universe: it was a type of energy. Like nature, the Shadow, or the fel, the Light was an energy force that could be tapped into and used, for good or evil. It had no personality, no sentience to speak of. Those that thought so were merely projecting from their own hopes and fears.

The Light did not prod people to do good. People did good because they wanted to, just as people did evil. The Light did not determine whether people would be good or evil. People chose those paths for themselves. Unfortunately, for many, those paths were chosen for them. Those that grew up in happy, loving environments were more likely to end up good. Those that grew up in unhappy, unloving environments were more likely to end up evil. Children, from a very young age, had imprinted upon them the behaviours and attitudes of those around them. Fortunately, most children grew up to be mostly good, and it was they that would be attracted to the Light, although some chose to learn of the other energies of the universe. Thus would priests, paladins, mages, druids, and shamans come to the world. Those that grew up to be evil, although few, would learn of the darker energies. And so there would be warlocks and shadow priests. Death knights would come along later, an abomination upon the world, created by the Lich King for unholy purposes. Even among the so called "good classes" there would be those that chose a path of evil. Despite good intentions, evil would flourish so long as they had the support of their conscience.

The tauren had never practised the way of the Light. Not until now had any taken up that power. Stronghoof, a former shaman and a practised warrior, was told this story by Anarchei, a paladin. They sat in the lounge room of an apartment in Dalaran. Anarchei spoke carefully, pausing when Stronghoof asked him a question. When his tale was done, there was a moment of silence. The shu'halo warrior was taking it all in. Only a few moments ago he had begun to glow with an aura of Light. Now he was contemplating what his future might hold.

"I want to know something," the tauren began. "You are a paladin right?"

"That's right," Anarchei replied from his seat across from the shu'halo.

"What does it mean to be a paladin?" Stronghoof asked.

"A paladin is a warrior primarily, but a warrior who has taken up the power of the Light as their ally. There are different kinds of paladins, as we can take on different roles if we so choose. There is a holy paladin, one who heals more than they fight. There is a protection paladin, one who defends others. You can tell them apart because they carry a shield. And then there is a retribution paladin, one who fights more than anything else. Don't let the name fool you, paladins aren't usually about punishment, at least, I'm not."

"Does that mean you are a retribution paladin?"

Anarchei nodded, and pointed to his two-handed sword lying against wall next to his armour. "You can tell me apart by the weapon I carry."

"I see. Tell me more."

"Well, a paladin has more than a role to play. By virtue, most paladins will defend the weak and less fortunate."

"Is that why you saved me?"

Anarchei nodded. "It is not so much an obligation, as it is a choice. You never asked for help, I never agreed to give it, however I did choose to help you regardless because I don't like seeing people get hurt."

"Even if they are your enemy?"

"I don't think I have told you this, but I don't actually side with any particular faction."

"You aren't Alliance?"

Anarchei shook his head. "I might have been once upon a time, but not any more. How about you? Do you consider yourself a part of the Horde still?"

"I'm not sure," Stronghoof replied with a shrug. "I never really thought about it."

"It's your choice," Anarchei expressed with some disdain. "Personally, I find politics distasteful."

"Why's that?"

"The truth of politics is that it is a gun in the room, and people are deciding where it should be pointed. I honestly don't want anything to do with it."

"Oh..."

After an awkward silence, Anarchei spoke. "So, tell me. Do you want to become a paladin?"

Stronghoof nodded. "I can think of nothing else I would want to do. I already have training as a warrior, however I don't know the first thing about how to channel the Light like you do."

"I can show you if you'd like," the draenei offered.

"I'd like that very much," the shu'halo responded with a smile.

His glowing blue eyes brightening slightly at the opportunity to teach another the way of the Light, Anarchei stood up from his chair and motioned for Stronghoof to do the same. Once they were both standing face-to-face, Anarchei offered a warning.

"You must know: this is not something that can be mastered in a day. It will take weeks, maybe months for you to control this new power. I can certainly teach you the basics for now, however anything more advanced will require your complete devotion to the task. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Stronghoof replied with a nod. "I understand."

"Good, let's get started."

--

Over the past few hours Anarchei had taught Stronghoof some of the things a novice paladin would need to know. Auras, seals, and judgements were an essential part of any paladin's arsenal. They had pushed the furniture in the room to the walls to give them space in the middle to practice. The draenei had started out simple. No weapons or armour, just the spells themselves. The tauren managed to grasp them fairly quickly. His aura flared first, then his seal was in place, and finally he targeted Anarchei and unleashed his judgement. The hammer made of Light dropped from above, and collided with the shield the draenei had in place.

"Excellent work, you got it!" Anarchei clapped his hands in praise as the shield dissipated, a smile on his face. "You've managed to learn something in a few hours that took me a couple of days to learn."

Stronghoof blushed, or at least, what the draenei thought was a blush, as the tauren's fur covered up his skin. "Thank you. I don't think I could have done it without such a great teacher."

"No, thank you for been such an excellent student," Anarchei grinned. "Let's take a break."

Stronghoof sighed in relief and sat down on the floor, leaning back upon his three-fingered hands. Anarchei followed suit. After a moment of resting, Stronghoof's curiosity got the better of him.

"Anarchei?"

"Yeah?"

"I've been meaning to ask you... Why did you become a paladin? I mean, if you don't mind me asking."

"I don't mind. There's actually a bit of a story behind it. If you recall, I was in Moonglade for a while. After I left, I travelled to Darnassus, the home of the kaldorei. I was there to open an account at the bank so I could deposit the gold I had recently acquired, as well as some personal items I didn't want to carry around with me. While I was there I encountered a night elf priest who recognised the Light within me. While I was certainly surprised that I could possibly channel the Light, I declined her offer to train as a priest. I wanted to learn how to use the Light, but I wanted more than just the ability to heal people or cast spells. The priest acknowledged my desire and told me that if I wanted to become a paladin, that I would need to go to the Exodar, the nearest place that taught people how to become paladins. So with that knowledge I boarded a boat to Azuremyst Isle, and found a paladin trainer. I worked very hard at it, and it took me a few weeks to master the basics. However, at this time it became known to those around me that I had no desire to bed females. Eventually they figured out that I only liked other males in that way. My secret discovered, I was told to leave and never return. In effect, I was exiled from my own people."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Stronghoof said softly, Anarchei waving it off.

"Don't worry about it. I'm pretty much over it. Anyway, after that I took my training into my own hands, going from place to place, picking up knowledge and skills from other paladins as I travelled. It was around this time that I heard of the Burning Legion. These demonic invaders were a threat to all life, and so I left Azeroth and went back to my home world of Draenor, or at least, what's left of it. I fought the demons for a while, but I eventually grew tired, so I sought refuge. It was while I was in Shattrath City that I managed to complete my training. As a paladin I have helped many people. I am kind of famous in certain circles. Depending on who you talk to I'm either a great hero or a degenerate mercenary. I guess you can't please everyone."

After a moment, upon taking all this in, Stronghoof spoke. "Hearing that tale I want to become a paladin even more so."

Anarchei smiled, standing up. "If that is the case, let's continue with the training. This time, you will need to wear armour and carry a weapon."

"But I don't have any armour, or a weapon," the tauren explained as he also stood. "I discarded them when I thought I wouldn't need them any more."

"I see," the draenei mused. "Well, I guess I'll need to craft you some."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course. I'm your friend, that's what friends do for each other."

"It's just that I feel like I owe you for what you have done for me," Stronghoof bowed his head.

"Hey now," Anarchei stepped forward and lifted the shu'halo's head up to look him in the eyes. "You don't owe me anything."

"Would you at least accept a hug as payment?"

Anarchei smiled and nodded. They stepped closer to each other, their arms reaching around one another as they pressed in close. They stayed like that for a while, the tauren squeezing a little tightly, to which the draenei responded in kind. Both were smiling, their eyes closed, happy.

"You know, I could get used to this," Stronghoof said into Anarchei's left pointed ear.

Anarchei chuckled.

--

The materials required to craft armour are not cheap to buy. The draenei blacksmith however had plenty stored away in the bank, ready at a moments notice to craft any piece of armour that his clients desired. At that moment, however, he was crafting a special set of armour for a friend. The anvil was getting plenty of use that day, the blacksmith's hammer pounding away for some time as he crafted something of beauty. Beige-coated titansteel embedded with simple pale-blue gems, gold trim, and blue cloth. An excellent example of the merging of form and function. Much like his own set of armour, this gear would fit his tauren friend well. All that was left to do was to craft a weapon. Unfortunately, he could not make a sword like his own, as it was unique. He could, however, craft a blade that was similar and almost as powerful. It took nearly an hour, but in the end he was pleased with the result. The blade was longer than his own, more suited for the larger size of a shu'halo than a draenei. It was certainly a heavy weapon, and would do a lot of damage when it came into contact with an enemy. However, for the wielder it would feel as light a feather. With his task complete, he stepped out on to the street and waved his friend over, who had been sitting on a bench waiting, practising his auras and seals. Upon seeing his new armour, the tauren couldn't help but hug the draenei, albeit from behind this time.

"Thank you," he whispered into his friends ear.

Anarchei laughed. "We can't continue your training without armour or a weapon. It was no problem, really. Think of it as a gift."

Stronghoof nodded and released Anarchei from his hold, and picked up the chest armour to feel its weight, examining the craftsmanship.

"This is really beautiful," he said softly, as if in awe. "It's just like yours."

"Well, I thought you might like it. I've always thought it was the best looking armour around. And it's very powerful too. Not the most powerful of course, but it gets the job done."

"At least it isn't a dress," the shu'halo responded, putting the chest piece down to examine the leg plates. "That's one of the things I never really liked about being a shaman. We wore a dress."

Anarchei chuckled. "Even some paladins wear a dress, but not me. Can't stand the sight of it."

Stronghoof laughed.

"Let's take this back to the inn and have you try it on."

"Sure thing."

They both hefted the heavy plate armour and carried it down the street to the inn they were staying at. Once back inside their room, Stronghoof began putting the gear on. The leather straps proved to be a bit difficult at first, however the tauren refused the draenei's assistance. He wanted to do this himself. After a few minutes of twisting and moving about, the armour was finally covering the tauren's body.

"There's no helm," Stronghoof commented.

"Well, you see, I've never been a big supporter of helms," Anarchei replied, brushing his left hand thought his spiky white hair. "What, with the horns and all."

Stronghoof saw the problem. The draenei had two thick horns that extended from his forehead and straight up as long as his hair. Getting a helm on to that head would have been difficult. As a tauren, he knew how hard it was to find a helm that would fit him, and most of the time he would go without. As a master of various weapons, he was good enough not to need one anyway. He was quite capable of keeping enemies away from his head. The power boost he would have received from the item would have been nice though.

The novice paladin picked up the new two-handed sword, feeling the weight in his hand. He gave it a few swings through the air. Once he got used to it, the blade felt like there was nothing there at all.

"This is an amazing weapon," Stronghoof exclaimed, watching the blade move faster than he thought was possible.

"A little blacksmithing secret," Anarchei explained, smiling as his friend enjoyed his gift.

"Are you going to get your armour on too?" the tauren asked, no longer testing his new sword.

"Sure, give me a moment."

In a quarter of the time it took Stronghoof to put on his gear, Anarchei had his on.

"Ready for more training?"

"You bet."

Suddenly, Anarchei rushed forward and swung his blade, a move that Stronghoof barely managed to counter. Stronghoof then used his strength to smash his sword into the draenei's, who barely moved under the assault. Anarchei returned the blow, which managed to make the large tauren step back. Eyes widening, Stronghoof tried to fight back with all his strength, but it didn't take long for him to be beaten. The draenei had managed to bring his blade inside the shu'halo's defences and had the point aimed at his throat.

"You're out of practice," Anarchei said between breaths, withdrawing his blade and standing back. "Let's go again."

Barely able to catch his breath, Stronghoof swung his weapon to meet the new onslaught from Anarchei. They continued like this for over an hour, Stronghoof nearing exhaustion as each time he was defeated by the draenei in under a minute.

"How are you able to do that?" he asked his friend after he had collapsed to the floor, panting heavily while the draenei was breathing like he had only run a short distance.

"The Light gives me strength," Anarchei explained. "You need to understand that the Light is more than just casting spells. It can make you strong and powerful in both body and mind. Your mind is strong with all the magic you used as a shaman, however as a result you have weakened your body. You need to draw on the Light, whether you are about to cast a spell, or you are fighting with a weapon."

Stronghoof nodded. After a few moments, his body emanated a glow briefly, and in an instant he was barely tired at all. Surprised, he looked up at the draenei standing above him, hand extended to help him up. Grasping it, he was half-lifted off the ground. Upon releasing his friend, Anarchei backed up and raised his blade.

"Again."

--

The training continued for several days. Anarchei wasn't easy on Stronghoof, but never brutal. He knew when the tauren needed rest, knew when a new technique was too tough for him to learn right away. He pushed Stronghoof to his limits, but never beyond them. The shu'halo sometimes did not appreciate how hard the draenei was been on him, but the way his friend treated him when they weren't training reminded him that this was training, not a friendly sparring match. Of course, when it came to spell casting, Anarchei endeavoured to make the experience as fun as possible. Not wanting to over exert the tauren too much, they had forgone wearing armour while using spells. After the tauren mastered healing spells, he decided to teach Stronghoof how to bubble. The proper name was divine shield, but it's appearance had given it the nickname bubble. This was probably the most fun that the tauren had experienced since they had begun training. Once he had learnt how to master the technique, they had begun bouncing around the room with the bubbles. Off the floor, into the ceiling, and off the walls. Every time they felt nothing, the bubble protecting them from the impacts. Thinking he might surprise his friend, Stronghoof targeted Anarchei and threw himself at the draenei.

"Wait, Stronghoof..."

Too late, they collided with one another, their bubbles having disappeared a split second before impact. They landed hard, Anarchei with his back to the floor, Stronghoof above him.

"Divine shield has a time limit, remember?" the draenei grunted.

"I'm so sorry," the larger tauren apologised, taking most of his weight off the draenei. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

"I'm fine," Anarchei replied as he looked up at Stronghoof.

They starred at each other, both looked into each others eyes. They didn't turn away, neither wanting to.

"Your eyes are beautiful," Stronghoof said softly.

"They look like any other of my race," Anarchei replied as he blushed slightly.

Stronghoof shook his head, lent forward on his left elbow, and placed his right hand on the draenei's cheek.

"That's not what I mean."

"What do you mean?" Anarchei's voice barely above a whisper.

The tauren gently brushed his muzzle against the draenei's lips. "This."

Suddenly, their lips were together, Stronghoof engaging Anarchei in their first kiss. The draenei enjoyed it for a moment, returning the gentle kiss in kind. A doubt formed in his mind, he carefully pushed the tauren off himself slightly.

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

They kissed again, this time Anarchei felt that Stronghoof's large tongue sought entry into his mouth. He parted his lips and it slipped in, mingling with his own. Anarchei placed his arms around the tauren's thick neck, Stronghoof shifting his left arm behind Anarchei's back and his right behind his head. The bull rolled them over, Anarchei now on top. They ground themselves against one another, hands shifting to feel each other's bodies. The draenei had never before felt the way he did now. He hadn't had this sort of experience before, and he was enjoying it like nothing he had experienced before. The feeling of muscles and fur beneath his hand, the warmth of the body beneath him, the wetness of the tongue not his own. It was too much for him. Suddenly they both stopped and pulled away, breathing heavily, as they realised that they were both aroused.

"I want us to make love," Stronghoof said gently.

Unsure how to respond, the draenei thought quickly for what to say. His thoughts were all over the place, but the one that nudged him at that moment was the one he knew was the right thing to say.

"I think it might be too soon for that," Anarchei replied in the same tone. "We may be rushing..."

The draenei was interrupted by the sound of a window shattering. A rock had been thrown through it. The rock landed near where they laid on the floor. Startled, they rolled off each other and sat up. Both of them stared at the stone. Wrapped around it was a note, with dark red splotches that could only be blood splattered on the paper. Anarchei reached forward and picked it up, unravelled the paper, and instantly dropped the rock, for it was made of saronite, the blood of Yogg-Saron, the old god of death. The note was written in rough Common, with a message that read: "Stay away from the tauren or you will die."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

Summary: A draenei paladin traveling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.

Author's note: More story has arrived! This one is back to the usual length of the previous few parts. I am rapidly approaching the finish of this story. There are about four more parts of the story to come. As for the ending, well, you will need to wait and see, because I'm not spoiling the surprise. However, I will unfortunately spoil something in this part of the story... This part has some mature bits in it, so a word of warning: If you don't want to read, go away now!

--

Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 10

--

Unholy.

The piece of parchment covered in dried blood that sat on the table emitted unholy energy. The draenei was troubled by this, not only because of the source of the power, but the greatness of that power also. He knew that he was no match for the writer of the death threat against him. He had sat down on the couch beside his tauren companion. Deep in thought, he had not realised that he had leaned up against the large muscular bull, who now had his arm around him.

"I think you should just ignore it," Stronghoof said in an attempt to comfort the draenei. "We are in Dalaran, there's no way that anything could happen here."

Anarchei wanted very much to believe that, but he knew that the reality of the situation had escaped the shu'halo. That fact was that the one who had sent the threat was more powerful than he was, and with the most powerful mages of the Kirin Tor in Icecrown Citadel fighting the Lich King, there was no one in Dalaran who could help them. The evil behind the threat was undeniable. The runic power he had sensed could not be disregarded. As a fully trained paladin, he knew who had written the death threat. If Stronghoof knew, he would agree with Anarchei that the best thing to do would be to go into hiding. A death knight had penned that note, and not just any death knight. This one was powerful, possibly one of the highest ranking in the Lich King's army of undeath.

"We cannot ignore this," Anarchei explained. "The one who sent this note is more powerful than anyone in Dalaran, even more powerful than me. I think we have little choice in the matter. Either I stay here and face certain death, or I do as the note says and leave."

After a moment of stunned silence, Stronghoof turned to face his friend. "You can't be serious!"

"I've never been more serious in my life," the draenei responded with a sigh as he shrugged off the tauren's heavy arm and stood up. "It's for the best."

"No!" Stronghoof stood also and moved in front of Anarchei to face him. "Wherever you go, I'm going with you. I'm not leaving you, and you aren't leaving me!"

The draenei thought it over and for a moment thought to tell his companion that he would not agree, but at the last moment he changed his mind and gave the tauren a nod. He was quickly surrounded by fur and muscle as Stronghoof gave him another bone-crushing embrace. They were interrupted, however, by a knock at the door. Stronghoof immediately jumped back.

"It's all right," Anarchei tried to calm his friend down.

He turned and walked to the door, unlocked and opened it, to reveal Jorus. The netherdrake was in sindorei form, and entered the room, after which Anarchei shut and locked the door.

"I heard that there was a problem and came as quickly as I could," the elf explained, and when he noticed the quizzical look on the bull's face he continued. "Anarchei and I have a special bond that enables us to talk to each other with our minds."

"What special bond?"

"Well, a few years ago my family was held captive by orcs in Shadowmoon Valley. Anarchei, who was an outsider, managed to gain the trust of the netherwing, infiltrate the orc camp, and freed many of the drakes held against their will. For his acts, I offered to be his companion. I would carry Anarchei on my back wherever he wanted to go, so long as it involved flying. Whenever I wasn't needed I would teleport back to my family."

Stronghoof nodded in understanding. "I guess that's one of those times you helped others as a paladin, right?"

Anarchei nodded. "One of many."

"One day I'd like to hear about the other people you have helped."

"I'm sure he will tell you anything," Jorus interrupted. "As soon as you are out of harms way."

"Speaking of which, where are we going?" Stronghoof asked.

"My home of course," the elf explained. "Now gather your things, we don't want to leave anything behind."

With a wave of his hand, the room that had once served as a training ground for the two paladins, was rearranged as it was when they first arrived. All their belongings floated through the air and landed at their feet, armour and all. With no desire to waste any more time, they both quickly put on their armour and placed their weapons behind their backs. Anarchei then produced a small stone the size of his palm as if from nowhere, a stone with a strange symbol carved upon it.

"Come and touch the stone," he beckoned. "This will take us to Draenor."

They all placed their hands on the stone. Once in position, a green glow emanated from the stone, surrounded them, and a moment later they vanished.

--

The wind blew.

The land was covered in long flowing green grasses that fluttered in the breeze. Here and there, pockets of threes erupted from the landscape, and large bodies of water filled in the low lying areas. To the north-east, towering grew cliffs rose up to meet the pink and blue sky, while to the south-west a sheer drop led into the Twisting Nether. High above the landscape, small floating islands hovered gracefully, sporting either trees surrounded by grass, or lakes that lost their water to the land below in an endless cascade. This was Nagrand, one of the few remaining unscarred lands of Draenor.

High in the cliffs that surrounded Nagrand to the east, a large shelf of flat land covered in trees existed. Here, in the centre lay a large clearing, to the untrained eye simply grassland. However, to those permitted to see it, what actually existed there was a small city, hidden by magical means. A miniature Dalaran, this city was made up of many towers made of stones of white, grey, light pink, and pale blue. Within the city limits were sindorei, or what appeared to be sindorei. In fact, they were netherwing drakes in disguise, or rather, in the forms they preferred to take. In the centre of the city there was a market, where elfs, ethereals, draenei, orcs, kurenei, and even some ogres all came to trade with one another. Only those that had proven themselves friends of the netherwing were welcome. Above the sounds of the market, on the balcony of the highest apartment within one of the tallest towers, a tauren, draenei, and sindorei had appeared as if out of nowhere. The tauren was momentarily stunned by the view he took in, until his companion draenei explained where he is and the story behind it.

"You see," Anarchei continued, after he had described Nagrand and the city to his friend. "The netherwing are not very trusting of outsiders. They have good reason to. After all, they are the hatchlings of Deathwing."

"Really?" Stronghoof asked, glancing at the elf beside him in a moment of fear.

"There is no reason to fear us," Jorus attempted to calm the bull. "We have taken a different path from that of our progenitor. For the most part we are peaceful, however we do not take kindly to strangers."

"The netherwing have been mistreated by many after the explosion that tore this planet apart," the draenei added, grasping the tauren's arm gently. "This city is one of the few places that they have that they can live in relative peace from those that would wish them harm."

"I see," Stronghoof sighed in relief.

"Can we go inside now?" Jorus asks with a note of displease. "This wind is ruining my hair."

The other two took a moment to examine the elf's long blue hair, restraining themselves at the dishevelled look the elf now sported. The elf gave them an angry looking stare before he stomped off, gracefully if a little forcibly opening the twin glass doors that led into the apartment.

"I didn't know dragons cared about their looks as much as a sindorei does," the bull chuckled.

"Well, they like to look good," the draenei explained. "And in their opinion, elfs are the best looking race they have encountered. Who knows, maybe been in that form for so long they have adapted a few of the traits one would expect of a sindorei."

"Maybe," Stronghoof's voice trailed off as he saw inside the large apartment. "Is this your place?"

"Yes it is," Anarchei turned to look at what his friend had starred at. "This is my home. Want to come and have a better look?"

The bull nodded. Once inside, the draenei gave his companion a tour. From the balcony was the main room, which contained a lounge suite made of plush black cloth upon the largest Jorus now sat brushing his hair, a dining table with six chairs made of dark varnished wood, and a kitchen with a large pantry, a strange looking door that was cool to the touch, and an oven and stove that looked like they were powered not by fire but by magic. When they were done, they joined Jorus in the lounge. Before they could even have a chance to sit down and relax, the elf immediately stood up, his hair now straight as ever.

"I need to go see my family and explain to them the situation," he expressed with a look of seriousness. "Hopefully it will never come to it, but just in case, I will arrange some extra security for you two. I will be back later in the day to check on you."

Without another word, Jorus turned and stepped out on to the balcony, closed the doors behind him, almost instantaneously transformed into his natural drake form, and took off, flying away and out of sight.

After a short pause, Anarchei turned to Stronghoof. "Maybe this is a good time to settle in?"

"Sure."

They both methodically removed their armour and placed it in a neat pile against the wall, their swords against the stone with the rest of their gear. They were both in black under-armour, which was tight and left nothing to the imagination. Every bump of muscle, every curve of their bodies, every bulge was visible. Both did nothing to hide their looks, assaulting each other's muscled bodies with their eyes.

"Eh, Anarchei?" the tauren asked, tearing his eyes from his companion's strong body to look him in the eyes. "Would it be possible to get cleaned up? I mean, I'm a bit sweaty from our training earlier, and I kind of stink."

"Oh, ah, yeah, no problem," the draenei responded, his eyes meeting his friend's. "This way."

Stronghoof followed Anarchei down a corridor off the main room. They passed a few doors, but eventually the draenei opened the one at the end. Inside the room was a large bath set into the stone floor. It could almost be described as a swimming pool, with a bench that lined the edge so that bathers could sit while in the water. Anarchei crouched down and pressed a few metal buttons on the side of the empty pool, and water suddenly began to pour in as if from nowhere, with plenty of soap and bubbles to go with it.

"Just a bit of magic that the netherwing are fond of experimenting with," the draenei explained to the confounded tauren.

Once the bath was almost full, the water stopped flowing. Stronghoof stripped off his under-armour and entered the pool. He turned around to face Anarchei.

"You going to join me?" asked the naked bull, half submerged in water and bubbles.

"Of course," the draenei replied as he removed his own under-armour.

For the first time he had revealed his naked form to another, and as he entered the bath full of warm water, he could not help but feel a little bit excited, especially with his friend checking him out so openly.

"We both have sheaths," Stronghoof said bluntly, not exactly what the draenei was expecting.

"Well, from what I can tell, the draenei and the shu'halo share a few similarities," Anarchei explained as he took a seat on the bench that lay underwater, his tail curled to the side. "We both have hooves, digigrade legs, and of course horns. Our genitalia is just something else we have in common."

After this explanation, they both began to clean themselves. Their hands shifted over their bodies, tauren over dark fur, draenei over blue skin, both feeling the hard muscle underneath. After a while they could not stop their peaks at one another. Eventually, most of the bubbles had cleared, leaving their lower bodies mostly visible to each other. Stronghoof shifted over to sit beside Anarchei.

"Can I wash your back?" the shu'halo asked.

Taking the draenei's nod as consent, as well as his move to the centre of the pool to give the tauren access, Stronghoof began to wash his friends broad rippled back. He started at the shoulders and slowly moved down, feeling the hardness of the muscles slowly dissolve under his gentle massage. Anarchei groaned and shut his eyes. Not only did the feeling of Stronghoof's three-fingered hands feel good on his stressed back, it had also resulted in his growing arousal. He was hard, but he felt too good from the massage to try to cover it up. The tauren, being taller, noticed this new state of affairs, and bravely reached around with his left hand to feel the draenei's cock. Stronghoof realised that while similar, the draenei's penis was smaller than his own, in girth and length. Anarchei moaned at the the touch, and pressed into the furry hand. The tauren had also become hard, and pressed his arousal into the draenei's back.

Anarchei gently touched Stronghoof's hand and guided him off his cock and turned around to face his new lover. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment and then leaned in for a kiss. Their tongues met, the bull's larger one overpowered the draenei and entered his mouth. Stronghoof reached around Anarchei and pulled him in, their bodies crushed together in the warm water, their hard cocks sparred for space. At that moment Anarchei noticed that the tauren was much larger than him in all respects. With no desire for the moment to end, they moaned and groaned as they felt each other up. Stronghoof shifted his hands up and down the draenei's back while Anarchei felt down the tauren's front, sliding over the large chest, taunt belly, and down to his large ball sack, where he began to squeeze the objects within that were larger than his fist.

All of a sudden they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Jorus had returned.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

Summary: A draenei paladin traveling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.

Author's note: o.O I'm on a roll, lol. Continuation and stuff. Enjoy!

--

Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 11

--

Frozen.

The two hooved beings had been stuck in position ever since the knock at the door to the bathroom. The smaller of the two whispered in the other's ear that it was a friend. At that the large bull relaxed a bit. They were both still crushed up against one another, naked in the warm water of the large round bath, however their arousal had quickly disappeared at the interruption.

"When you two are finished in there, I need to have a word with you," the voice from behind the door called out.

"We'll be out in a minute," the draenei called back, his eyes on the tauren in front of him.

The sound of footsteps as they moved away was invitation enough for the two to share a few short kisses, however they did not want to get themselves worked up again just yet. Anarchei separated himself reluctantly from his new lover and climbed out of the water, his naked form dripping water on the stone floor. He turned back to Stronghoof, who looked up at him as if pleading for them to continue.

"Sorry," the draenei apologised. "But with Jorus around it would be too weird. You know that we share that link with our minds, and the closer he is the more he can feel. Even if we blocked each other out, he would still feel the strong emotions I felt, and I really want this to be private between us."

The bull nodded in understanding and sighed. "I want that also."

Anarchei extended his hand and grasped Stronghoof's own and helped him out of the bath. The tauren had become much heavier than usual thanks to his now water-soaked fur. Letting go, the draenei turned and walked over to the door. On a small table sat a pile of clean towels. He picked up two large white ones and threw one over to Stronghoof, who deftly caught it. They both dried themselves off. Both started at their heads and slowly worked their way down. The draenei finished first. His job was made a rather quick and easy one due to his relatively smaller body and the fact that the only hair he sported was on his head and just above his hooves. The tauren on the other hand was having a tougher time of it. Anarchei saw this and moved to give him a hand. Using his half-wet towel, he helped rub through Stronghoof's fur, slowly but surely getting his companion as dry as possible.

"Thanks," the bull offered in response to the help we received. "It's too bad there isn't some magical way to get dry."

"Hmm," the draenei hummed as he finished drying the fur around the tauren's right hoof. "Maybe that's something I can bring up some time when I have the chance to talk with the mages here."

Anarchei stood up and threw his soaked towel to the floor. Stronghoof followed suit, a loud splash echoed in the room as the wet fabric collided with stone. As the draenei turned and picked up fresh clothing that had somehow replaced the stack of dry towels on the table, the bull couldn't help but stare at the thick tail that extended from the draenei's lower back and down to the floor, the jagged edges along the top a strange but fitting addition. Anarchei turned back and handed Stronghoof a set of clothes, which to his amazement were just his size.

"Jorus made them," the draenei explained. "He's a very good tailor. All the fabric in this place he made himself."

With a nod, the tauren carefully slipped into the clothing. He pulled the white underwear on first, which contrasted well against his dark brown fur. Then came the leggings, black as night, and finally the shirt, a light pink affair that the tauren wasn't so sure about.

"Anarchei?" Stronghoof grumbled.

"Don't like the colour, huh?" the draenei asked in return. "Don't worry, I think it looks good. Besides, look at what he made me."

The tauren finally noticed the fully clothed draenei. He was wearing the same sort of pants as him, but the shirt was a light purple instead of pink.

"Yeah, but that suits you," Stronghoof almost whined, picking at his new shirt with his left hand.

"No one will see you but us," Anarchei explained in an attempt to calm the tauren's doubts. "Besides, I think it shows off your arms really well."

The bull saw that what his companion said was indeed true. The short sleeves made his muscled arms look much bigger than they really were. Not only that, his chest was clearly outlined in the tight-fitting shirt. He couldn't help but admire himself, and his doubts over the colour vanished.

"So what do you think?" the draenei asked as he struck a pose, a flex of his right arm created a bulge in his bicep that stretched the fabric to its limit.

All Stronghoof could do was stare.

"You guys coming out here or what?" an irritated voice yelled from the lounge.

"We better get out there before he starts ranting," Anarchei said quietly as he stepped over to the door and opened it.

Stronghoof nodded and followed his new love out of the bathroom and down the corridor into the main area of the apartment. Sitting on one of the lounge chairs was an elf, but in reality it was Jorus in disguise.

"Took you long enough," the sindorei grumbled, his arms crossed in irritation.

"My fur takes a while to dry," the tauren explained as he sat down beside Anarchei on the couch across from Jorus.

"Well, I hope you two had a good time," Jorus responded, uncrossing his arms with a smirk.

The draenei and tauren both glanced at each other briefly before they turned back to face the elf.

"Anyway," Jorus continued as he leaned forward, hands together in front of him. "I have spoken to my family. They all said to say hello, and they have arranged to have a guard placed outside the tower just in case the unthinkable should happen."

"Thank you," Anarchei expressed with gratitude.

"No problem," the elf waved him off. "I was also wondering if you two had any plans tonight, because my family has invited you to dinner."

The both shook their heads in reply.

"Excellent!" Jorus said with a smile. "So what are we going to do until then? We have a bit of time to spare at the moment. Any ideas?"

"I'm not sure..." Anarchei trailed off.

"Maybe our new friend here can tell us a bit about himself," the elf offered. "I'm kind of intrigued."

"I don't know..." Stronghoof tried to say.

"Come on," Jorus prodded gently with a smile. "I'm not going to bite."

"If you insist," the tauren sighed.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," the draenei offered, his hand wrapped around the bull's in reassurance.

"No, it's all right. I want to," Stronghoof smiled at Anarchei as he squeezed his hand in return.

After a moment to clear his head, he began his tale. "Originally, I was a warrior. I was trained as one, simply because my people are very much connected to nature and if you can't make it as a druid or a shaman, you need to find a different path to take. I chose the way of the warrior because I had a friend who took the training. It was this friend of mine that eventually became my future mate. We fell for each other rather quickly. After that it was discovered that I had a talent for shamanism. So, I was pulled out of my life of a warrior and began my training as a shaman. I learnt all there was to know. The spirits, the totems, the spells. Everything.

After keeping our mateship a secret for over a year, it was eventually found out that we were together. Thunderbluff threw us out. We found our way to Ratchet, where the goblins didn't care about what we were. To them, business was important, and rejecting people because of certain traits meant smaller profits. So they gave us jobs. My mate became a guard in the town, while I worked as a healer part time. I made more gold crafting gems and jewellery, and I am one of the few tauren to have mastered that tricky profession. We spent a year in Ratchet, making a fair living. One day we heard of the problems in Outland, and so we decided to go check it out. After fighting various hostiles, we returned to Ratchet. Not long after that, we heard of the Lich King and his attack on Azeroth. We took up our weapons and totems, and set off for Northrend. My mate heard of the offensive on the Wrath Gate and decided to help out. I went along, but stayed near the back of the Horde formation. The Lich King came. The Forsaken attacked them all. My mate was hit by their poison while I ran away in fear."

For a moment Stronghoof was unable to continue his story, a wetness coming to his eyes. Anarchei carefully placed his arm around his companion's back, the tauren nodded his thanks at the comfort and offered a smile, a smile that the draenei returned. His strength returned, and his eyes a little clearer, he continued.

"After that the dragons came. Despite their calming presence, when I returned to find the body of my mate among the dead, I was unable to bear the strain of his loss. I fled. I eventually came to the conclusion that life wasn't worth living. So I found a rabble of undead and lured them into battle. I had not worn any protective armour because I wanted it to be quick. I set up my totems and started firing spells at them, hoping to make myself a big enough target that they would come after me like a swarm. Well, it worked, they came. At that point, Anarchei showed up and started drawing them away, but not before they overcame me and infected me with the plague. Everything after that, you know."

Jorus laid back against the soft cushion of the lounge chair, his arms behind his head. "Wow. That's quite a story. So, I'm guessing the reason Thunderbluff exiled you is because your mate was male?"

Stronghoof nodded.

"Well, you don't need to worry about something like that happening here," the elf explained. "Once you gain our trust, we are pretty tolerant."

"That's good to know," the tauren replied with a smile.

"So, I'm guessing you two are together now, huh?" Jorus chuckled.

Stronghoof and Anarchei looked into each other's eyes and both silently came to the same conclusion. They nodded.

"I thought so," the elf smirked. "I thought I felt something interesting going in the bathroom earlier."

"Jorus!" Anarchei blurted indignantly.

"Yeah, I know," Jorus responded, his hands out in front of him to placate the draenei. "From now on, when you two are alone I'll wait until you give me the word so I know it's safe to come back."

The light in the room had steadily begun to grow dimmer as the light from the sun disappeared. As night fell, around the room the candles in brackets on the walls magically lit themselves.

"Well, it looks like I need to get going," the elf said as he stood up. "I'll need to get ready for dinner. I'll meet you there later."

With that, the elf, clad in his elaborate clothing, stepped up to a pedestal near the wall upon which sat what appeared to be an orb made of golden glass. He placed his hands on the sphere, and in a rush of blue energy, disappeared in a flash.

"What was that?" Stronghoof asked in awe at the sight.

"Oh, that," Anarchei tried to explain as he looked at what the tauren starred at. "That's a magical object that let's us get up and down the tower without flying. There aren't any stairs here you see."

"Ah, I get it."

The draenei turned back to his mate and gave the tauren a quick kiss on the lips. "Come on, we will need a jacket at least if we are going to dinner with Jorus' family. They are kind of uptight about appearances."

"You mean, more so then Jorus?"

Anarchei nodded. Both of them shared a short laugh at the expense of their friend. The mirth died down eventually, and when it did, the draenei stood and lead his mate to his bedroom. Down the corridor again, this time the door next to the bathroom. Anarchei opened it to reveal a room about the same size as the large bathroom. The outer wall curved, as this was a tower after all. In the centre of the room was what could only be described as the biggest bed Stronghoof had ever seen. It was twice as wide as an average tauren, and long enough for him to lay down in with room to spare. Anarchei led the tauren to his wardrobe, which was a room in itself, and laid out on a shelf was a new suit for Stronghoof, and a matching one beside it for Anarchei.

"Let me guess," the tauren started, as he picked up the jacket. "Jorus?"

"Yeah," the draenei answered as he admired the fine fabric. "He finds time for so much. Sometimes I think he has done more for me than I have done for him."

The light outside had faded fast, so they donned their new attire and made their way to leave the apartment. They touched the orb in the lounge and were teleported to the ground, where a sindorei warrior equipped in heavy armour awaited them. Anarchei began to walk down the street, Stronghoof alongside, their bodyguard fell in behind them. They headed down the street to a large domed building that had two tall towers made of pale blue stone on either side. As they entered, a distressed looking female elf, dressed in a long flowing golden dress, showed them a note covered in fresh blood. Anarchei took the note from who he knew to be Jorus' mother.

"I went looking for him," she spoke in a voice laden with sobs. "He said he would back. I went to his room. It was a mess, and the note...the note was on the floor...in a puddle of blood."

The woman began to cry in earnest, as the draenei unfolded the parchment with shaking hands.

"If you ever want to see Jorus alive again, Anarchei and Stronghoof must come to this place before the sun rises. If any others follow, he dies."

Below the scribble was a hastily drawn map that outlined Draenor, a large "X" marked a cave not far from the small city.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

Summary: A draenei paladin travelling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.

Author's note: This has got to be the hardest thing I've ever written. I won't give it away, but just a warning, it's not pretty. And if you must know, no, this is not the last part of the story. I wouldn't dream of ending it here. You are just going to need to wait until the next part is written to find out what happens.

--

Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 12

--

The wind howled.

A pale glow illuminated the land, the energies in the sky provided light in the dark of night. Two figures carefully made their way up a narrow path in the sheer cliffs. Hooves crushed stray rocks into dust, their heavy bodies and strong legs very capable of the task. Both were adorned in the armour of paladins, a two-handed sword strapped securely on each of their backs. The shorter of the pair was in the lead, a blue glow shone from his eyes. The draenei had insisted that he go first, for he had more experience in the Light, and knew how to deal with the evil they slowly made their way towards. The tauren behind him had only just begun to learn the ways of the Light, and on his own would be no match for the power they soon faced.

The wind was a constant reminder of what lay ahead, its chill more than once produced a shiver up their spines. It wasn't so much the temperature of the wind that produced this sensation, but rather the sound it made as it travelled through the cracks and crevices of the cliffs. They both had the feeling that this was going to be the toughest battle they had ever faced, for both knew that there was no way that the evil being that had kidnapped their friend would give up their prize without a fight.

Eventually, they found themselves at the end of the path, a clearing of long grass and rocks awaited them. On the side of the cliff, a narrow crack just large enough for the tauren to walk through led to a dark cave. They stepped inside slowly, at any moment they expected an ambush. None came. The draenei used his eyes to see in the dark, as his race had the ability thanks to certain biological properties. He used this ability to guide them through the warren of tunnels and caverns. After a few minutes of nothing but darkness, they came upon a strange violet glow. Upon closer inspection, the source of the light came from a crystal, which hovered above the floor of the cave. The light illuminated a large part of the cave, which revealed pillars of rock that had formed over centuries from water that had dripped in through the cracks in the ceiling. Next to the crystal lay a gagged and bound elf, his pale skin tinted purple by the crystal's magical glow. With no desire to waste time at the opportunity presented to them, the draenei stepped forward and kneeled at the elf's side, and proceeded to ungag him.

"The crystal suppresses my magic," Jorus explained, the elf glanced at the crystal. "I tried to teleport away, but nothing happened."

Anarchei nodded as he began to untie his friend. A deep voice issued forth from the dark.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

In the shadows, beyond the reach of the light, two eyes shone in the darkness, their blue colour an indication of an evil presence within. It was the death knight.

"I thank you for coming alone," the unholy being spoke again, his voice echoed against the walls of the cave. "It will make our transaction much easier."

"What do you mean?" Anarchei asked as he stood from his position beside Jorus, Stronghoof at his side now.

"Why, I thought it was obvious," the death knight explained in a humorous tone. "In exchange for the elf, Stronghoof must give himself to me."

"Who do you think you are?" the angry tauren yelled at the shadows, his body shook with rage at the death knight's audacity, and stepped around Jorus. "I demand that you show yourself!"

The familiar sound of hooves greeted the three as the death knight stepped forward slowly. Eventually, the evil being was illuminated totally by the violet light in the cave. The undead tauren wore black armour adorned with embossed silver skulls and bones, the hilt of a weapon in the same style visible above his left shoulder. The armour matched his black fur and horns, as well as the silver ring through his nose. Stronghoof gasped and pointed a shaking finger at the death knight.

"You...you're Stonebreaker," he said softly with a stutter, his muzzle a mixture of confusion and fear. "But...you're dead."

Anarchei turned his head to face his mate, then directed his gaze at Stronghoof's former mate, and then back again.

"Confused?" the undead tauren chuckled. "I'll explain then. Might as well, it may make things easier for you. You see, after the Forsaken killed most of the soldiers in front of the Wrath Gate, and the dragons had returned to Wyrmrest Temple, the Lich King came back to resurrect those that had died. Most were brought back as mindless undead, their minds and bodies too far gone to be of any real use, however a select few were made into death knights, myself included. I turned out to be one of the most powerful death knights the Lich King had ever created. Because of this, the Lich King promised me that I would get my mate back, so long as I pledged upon my unlife fealty to the Lich King. I think he feared the power I had, because that pledge bonded me to continued existence, and to break it by turning traitor would mean I would cease to be. So, out of love for you Stronghoof, I followed you around, disguised as a death knight of the Horde. No one ever suspected me, so long as I wore the right colours. While you slept I influenced your unconscious to think of suicide. The only way you could be my mate again was if you became a death knight like me, and you needed to die for that to happen. The undead legion that almost killed you? I arranged that, with the help of another death knight that had also come back from the Wrath Gate. However, thanks to the intervention of the paladin, those plans were ruined. So, here we are. My plans have changed a bit, but the result will still be the same. Now, I'll ask again. Hand yourself over Stronghoof, and I promise, no one will get hurt."

For a moment the three were stunned to silence by the undead tauren's words. The cruelty of what he had done was such a shock to them. Never before had they seen a love so twisted that it hardly could be called love at all. It seemed that despite this, the tauren paladin was in thought on whether to give himself up or not. Stronghoof had no desire to see Jorus harmed, but he didn't want to get injured either. In either case, his mate would be hurt the most if either of them were wounded or even killed. He knew that Anarchei cared for them both very much.

"Don't do it!" Jorus yelled from his place on the ground as he struggled slightly against the ropes that held him bound tight.

Anarchei was torn. He did not know what to say, or what to do. On the one hand he had his friend Jorus, his netherdrake companion for many years, and on the other he had his new mate Stronghoof, whom he could not contemplate a life without. He did not want either of them harmed, but if he knew anything about the evil in front of him, someone was bound to get hurt. However, his inner struggle was dashed when the tauren paladin spoke again.

"I will never give myself to you," Stronghoof growled menacingly at Stonebreaker, his voice laced with spite. "Our love ended the day you died. The fact that you are responsible for my attempted suicide only makes this easier to say: I don't love you, and I don't want anything to do with you!"

"It doesn't matter whether you come willingly or not," the death knight crossed his thick arms, a smirk plastered on his dark muzzle. "The Lich King will bend you to his will and make you love me again."

"This will never happen," Anarchei declared, his mind decided on the matter. No one was going to submit to this undead tauren's will any longer.

At this announcement, Stonebreaker laughed. Not a laugh of joy or happiness, but rather a laugh laced with evil.

"You are no match for me," the death knight said with dark amusement. "A mere paladin and a paladin-in-training? You are nothing!"

Suddenly, Stonebreaker lashed out with dark energy. The pair doubled over in pain, Stronghoof fell to his knees while Anarchei managed to stay up. After a moment, the energy dissipated and the pain faded away.

"You are weak."

He lashed out again, the black and purple energy like lightning as it streaked through the air toward the paladins. This time, however, they were ready and they shielded themselves. The attack was reflected back at the death knight, who in turn blocked it with his own energy shield.

"So," Stonebreaker mused. "Magic alone won't win this fight. So be it."

The death knight drew his sword, the blade larger than anything the paladins had seen before. It was black as night, lined with silver skulls and bones, and engraved with unholy runes right up to the tip of the weapon. The undead tauren lunged forward and swung his sword at Stronghoof. Anarchei stepped in front of his mate and took the hit with his own blade. Stonebreaker's eyes widened at the sight of the draenei's weapon, and backed away.

"Quel'delar," he said plainly in astonishment. "But how? That blade was destroyed."

For a moment no one said anything. Anarchei glared angrily at the death knight, his sword raised and ready to fight. Stronghoof had also drawn his blade, and held a similar stance. Jorus still lay on the ground tied up, now behind them and with no choice but to watch the battle in silence.

"It is no matter," Stonebreaker concluded with a chuckle. "The previous wielder of that blade fell to the Scourge, and it will be the same again with you!"

The death knight quickly re-engaged the paladins in battle. He took them both on at the same time with little difficulty. Despite their best moves, the pair could not land a single hit on the undead tauren. He was simply too fast for them. Every swing was parried, every hit blocked by the burly weapon. Stonebreaker focused most of his energy on Stronghoof, his attacks inter-spaced with defensive moves against the paladins. They fought for a long time, occasionally calling upon magic to attack or defend. The intensity of the fight made it impossible to use their more powerful attacks. To do so would leave them open to a fatal blow. This, however, made no difference in the end. Stronghoof was worn out by the constant fighting. He didn't know enough about the Light to call upon it to give him more strength, and his long years of being a shaman had left him with diminished physical strength than what he had as a warrior. His arms were tired, and the sword he held aloft in his defence was heavier than ever before. His moves grew sloppier with each moment that flew past. All of a sudden, the death knight landed a hit on the tauren paladin. The runed blade sank deep into Stronghoof's flesh, his chest armour easily breached by the powerful undead tauren. With a powerful shove, the sword pressed on and came out the other side.

The paladin's muzzle opened in shock, his eyes wide in pain. Dark red blood trickled down from the wound, and gushed forth as the sword was removed from his body. He fell to the ground, the pain unbearable. Anarchei had stopped in mid-swing when he saw what had occurred, unable to process what he witnessed. Stonebreaker stood back, blade lowered as he admired his accomplishment. The death knight watched as the draenei paladin knelt beside Stronghoof's side and placed a hand over the wound. As hard as he tried, the Light simply could not heal the damage done. The evil power of the death knight's blade made healing impossible. He did the only thing he could do, with knowledge that his mate was about to die, the blood now pooled on the cave floor a clear indication. He grasped the bull's hand in his own and looked down at his mate as he slipped away from life.

The draenei had faced death before, been by the deathbed of friends, but this was so different. This was his mate, and all he could do was hold his mate's hand. It was just so sudden. His mind was a blank, the shock had stunned him beyond any thought except the one that he couldn't rid himself of: His mate was going to die and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

With his last bit of strength, the tauren reached up to brush his free hand against the draenei's left cheek.

"I love you," were his last words, his arm dropped to his side, his eyes locked on his mate's even after he uttered his last breath.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.

Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

Summary: A draenei paladin travelling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.

Author's note: Second last part of the story! Almost to the end! I hope everyone likes this part of the story. For many this will be the ending, but for some there's a little bit more to go, ie. There will be smut ahead!

--

Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 13

--

Rage.

There were no thoughts, no feelings, except the great rage that filled the draenei. His tauren mate lay dead on the floor of the cavern, his lifeless body surrounded by a pool of blood. Anarchei was not aware of anything any more. Only himself and the death knight existed. Everything else meant nothing to him now. The death knight had taken his friend and lover away from him, had taken his life. There was only one way he could prevent the tauren been turned into an undead monster, and the solution was before him. He stood slowly from his position next to Stronghoof's body, sword clutched in his right hand, his left pointed at Stonebreaker.

"You will pay for what you have done," the draenei growled, his sharp fangs clearly visible.

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a great light filled the cave, its illumination touched everything in sight. The shadows dispersed, the darkness vanquished. The source of this brilliance came from the paladin, both hands now grasped Quel'delar, as he let loose a roar. Power. Great power surged through Anarchei, unleashed by his rage, fuelled by his love. The massive boost of energy was enough to startle the death knight, his eyes widened in surprise at this unexpected development. The Light streamed out of the draenei, it flowed like a smoke from a fire. Even his eyes had changed. Instead of their normal blue glow, they now shone golden, the Light poured from them like mist off a torrent of water. This was power unimaginable.

As quick as lightning, Anarchei lashed out with the Light. His arm stretched out, hand raised with palm outward. The stream of Light hit Stonebreaker with such force that it sent him through the air and into the cavern wall. The rock was cracked by the impact, however the death knight managed to recover quickly. He launched his own attack on the paladin. The undead tauren fought no longer to satisfy his corrupted love, but now for his own survival. There were no holds barred in this battle. Both used their magic and their blades, both seemingly evenly matched. Anarchei wore an expression filled with rage, while Stonebreaker grinned to hide the fear that grew within. Their swords clashed, thrust and parry, parry and thrust. Their spells bounced off each other as they never managed to connect with their target. For some time it continued like this, dark against light. However, the tide was soon turned, and it turned against the death knight.

The draenei now had the upper hand. The Light continuously provided him with power, while it slowly sapped the undead tauren of his strength. With a sudden blast of energy, Anarchei roared. The force knocked back Stonebreaker, and in this moment he realised that his end had come. As if in slow motion, Quel'delar arced through the air, as it's wielder guided it toward the tauren. The blade sliced right through the death knight, through armour, flesh, and bone. Stonebreaker's eyes were wide in shock, his blade dropped from his hand. A line of blood began to leak from his belly. Gravity finished the job, his upper body unable to stay in its position, it detached and fell backward, his legs fell soon after that. A few moments of gurgled breath followed, as the death knight tried desperately to hold on to unlife. There was no way out for him this time. The Lich King would not bring him back, nor would he send an agent to do so either. He gasped his last breath, the light of undeath left the tauren's eyes.

Sure that the threat had been eliminated, Anarchei turned back to Stronghoof and knelt at his side. The rage was gone, now there was despair. His tears flowed freely, the power within him still strong. The draenei realised quickly that he had tapped an unknown well of power that he never knew existed, and before it disappeared, he needed to perform one last task. With hope that gave him the strength he needed, he uttered some words under his breath and placed his hands upon the lifeless body of his mate. The Light flowed from within him and into the tauren, Anarchei could feel his power diminish with each second that passed. Soon, Stronghoof's body glowed brighter than anything he had ever seen. Then it was over. He had nothing more to give. The draenei felt something stir beneath him. It was the tauren, his heart had begun to beat again. The wound he had received from the death knight was gone, not even the faintest scar remained. It was then he saw Stronghoof's eyes slowly open. There was a moment of recognition, before the draenei leant forward, his face directly in front of the tauren's.

"I love you too," he whispered gently, then pressed in all the way, his lips met those of his mate's, and they kissed passionately for what seemed like hours.

"Hey!" a voice cried out in the now dim violet light of the cave. "While I find it really sweet that you two are swapping saliva, I'm still tied up, and it isn't exactly warm in here."

The two separated and shared a soft laugh together. Anarchei stood up, and helped Stronghoof up off the ground, the tauren a little stiff from been dead, even if only for a few minutes. The draenei crouched next to Jorus and untied him. Once the elf was free from his bonds, they all faced the crystal that blocked the netherdrake's magic. With a swipe of his sword, Anarchei smashed it into thousands of shards, its power dissipated soon after.

"Ah, much better," the elf stated with joy. "I can use magic again. Although, now it's dark in here."

Again the two paladins laughed. Anarchei raised his hand and a small ball of light appeared, which illuminated the cavern a bit better than the crystal ever did. For a moment, Stronghoof stared at the corpse of his former mate. He was unsure what to do with the body. As if he had read his mate's mind, Anarchei spoke up.

"Jorus, do you think you could collapse this cave with your magic?"

"It's possible," the elf mused. "But if I do, I might not have enough energy to teleport us back to the city. That crystal did more than block my magic, it drained a lot of it too. But why would you want to collapse this cave?"

"I think Stronebreaker deserves a proper burial," Anarchei said with resolve, his eyes on his mate, who looked back at him with the same determination. "He may have been corrupted by the Lich King and turned evil, but once upon a time he was a good man. I think we can honour at least that much."

Jorus nodded. "We had better go to the entrance, wouldn't want the roof to collapse on us."

The group made their way back to the entrance of the cavern. Once they were all outside, Jorus turned to face the crack in the cliff face. He raised his hands, palms outward, and began to cast his spell. In seconds, an orb of energy appeared in each hand, and shot straight through the entrance and deep into the cave. The volley continued for some time, loud explosions of rock echoed as the magic connected with whatever got in its path. Soon the sound of large rocks could be heard as they broke away from the ceiling and fell to the cave floor. Jorus kept up his assault on the cavern until the collapse began to sustain itself. They stepped back as boulders and rocks bounced out of the entrance. Soon, a cloud of dust formed that clouded their sight of the cliff, the dirt flowed around them and down the side of the cliff, only to be picked up by the wind and carried off. The dust eventually settled to reveal the entrance of the cave blocked by boulders and rocks. No one was going in there again.

"Let's get out of here," Jorus spoke softly after a moment of silence.

In an matter of seconds the elf had transformed himself into a netherdrake. The energy that formed a part of his being him was weaker than it was usually, but thanks to his transformation, he was able to collect some energy from the Twisting Nether that surrounded the remains of Draenor.

'There, I got some of my strength back,' the drake explained, Stronghoof startled by the voice in his head.

"Did you hear him?" Anarchei asked as he placed a hand on his mate's arm, to which the tauren nodded in the affirmative.

'The connection between you two must have made it possible for him to tap into our link,' Jorus explained, his head tilted to the side as he transmitted his thoughts to the two paladins.

"If you say so," the draenei said in response. "You know more about the process than me."

"So I'll be able to hear everything you say while a dragon?" Stronghoof asked, no longer upset but rather curious and a little bit excited.

'Perhaps,' the drake answered, his voice carried with it a sense of being unsure. 'I'm guessing that so long as the connection between you two remains strong, you will be able to hear me. Now, can we please go now? As much as I like chatting, we really should get back.'

"Fine, let's go," Anarchei said as he stepped up to his flying companion and climbed on his back. "Coming Stronghoof?"

"Are you sure it's safe?" the tauren asked, a little nervous as he stepped forward. "I mean, can you carry my weight?"

'I've carried you before,' Jorus explained. 'I can manage.'

With a nod, Stronghoof climbed behind his mate, mindful of the draenei's tail that now curled around his left leg.

"Hold on tight," Anarchei spoke quickly as the drake had crouched lower and spread his wings in preparation for take off.

The tauren wrapped his arms around the draenei's waist just moments before Jorus flapped his wings and took to the air. They all felt the rush of gravity as they fell for a few seconds, then the wings pulled them out of their dive and they glided for a while. Ahead, in the distance, they caught sight of the small city that was their home.

--

Wings flapped strongly as the dragon descended rapidly toward the tower. On his back were two large beings that when combined were almost equal to his own weight. The netherdrake was not daunted however, and he remained strong, even when he slowed his descent and landed on the balcony, doing so with as much grace as he would as if he carried no extra weight at all. The pair dismounted quickly after which the drake groaned in relief and immediately transformed back into his preferred form, that of an elf.

"You know, you two really are heavy," Jorus commented as he dusted himself off, even though his magical clothing repelled all dirt.

"That's what happens when one is born either draenei or shu'halo," Anarchei responded with a wry smile.

"Whatever," the elf replied as he sniffed the air, his nose wrinkled as he recoiled in disgust. "You two need to bathe."

The draenei and tauren both sniffed, and were also repelled by the smell. They stank. Their climb through the mountains and the battle they had fought meant they were now rank. Sweat, dried blood, dirt, and the distinct odour of their kind all mingled to produce something that was not very pleasant.

"You're right," Anarchei agreed with a sigh.

Stronghoof followed his mate to the bathroom. They did not waste any time. They washed and dried themselves as quickly as they could. The water in the bath now stank like they had earlier, while their bodies where clean and smelt vaguely of some sort of flower. The reason they hurried was because mere moments after they had shut the door behind them and begun to remove their armour, a large commotion could be heard down the corridor. Jorus' family had arrived. When they returned, dressed in the clothes they had intended to wear to dinner earlier that night, they were greeted by many elfs. The females dressed in long dresses that flowed behind them, the males in formal dinner suits or semi-formal clothing. They all gave the pair a cheer as they appeared, many came up to them and shook their hands, or gave them hugs as a way of thanks. They were thanked by everyone that had gathered. Jorus' family wasn't small.

"We have arranged a little party to celebrate our son's safe return," Jorus' mother announced. "I hope you two can attend."

"Of course," Anarchei replied with a smile and a nod.

"It would be an honour," Stronghoof said in his usual deep voice.

'When my mother says a little party she really means she has invited everyone she knows,' Jorus spoke, the mind link they shared private as his mother didn't even flinch.

After the two paladins agreed, they all cleared out of Anarchei's apartment, and headed down to the venue of the party. It was the same building that their dinner was meant to be held in, but now it seemed that a lot had been done to prepare for the change of activities. Instead of a small dinner with just Jorus, his family, Anarchei, and Stronghoof, there was now a packed room full of people. The large room, if one could call it that, was square in shape. The floor a polished stone of many colours, the walls much plainer with golden pillars that held up a heavy ceiling. At the centre of the roof was a great circular indigo dome, it's semi-transparency meant that the night sky was clearly visible to all those below. Opposite the double wooden doors that led from the street into the magnificent building, against the wall stood a stage, upon which a band of various races played exotic music. In front of the stage was a space for people to dance, and many were there already. Around the edges of the room, there were large circular tables covered with white tablecloths, chairs arrayed around them. The room looked as if it was filled beyond capacity. There were many netherdrakes disguised as elfs, as well as several draenei who towered over most of those in attendance, and even a few orcs, who stood tall and proud unlike their distant relatives elsewhere. Everyone was dressed up in their best clothing, many of the outfits of strange combinations. While some wore more traditional clothing, suits and the like, others mixed and matched. Some wore frills around their necks and long socks that went up to their knees, others wore clothing so transparent that it left little to the imagination. It was obvious that the dress code was that there was no dress code.

Jorus was dragged off as soon as they arrived, his family wanted him to greet everyone who had come to the party. He didn't protest. The chance to meet new people, as well as get acquainted with old friends, was something the elf desired very much. Anarchei and Stronghoof were occasionally offered thanks for their rescue of Jorus, however for the most part they were left alone. They stood against one of the walls, no desire at that moment to sit at a table or dance. Both of them were tired from their trials earlier, but they had agreed to come, and they didn't want to break their promise. They were about to go and sit at a nearby table when a kaldorei stepped up to them and blocked their way.

"I was hoping to find you two," the night elf said, slightly dishevelled in his button-down orange shirt and black trousers.

"Surfal?" They both blurted out in unison.

"What are you doing here?" Anarchei continued as he reached out to shake the elf's hand.

"Well, I have a friend in Dalaran," Surfal explained as he also shook Stronghoof's three-fingered hand. "She's a netherdrake, but she takes the form of a quel'dorei so that she can study magic there. Anyway, long story short, she heard about a party been thrown for you two and your friend Jorus. She told me that she needed someone to take with her, so I agreed, but as soon as we arrived she left me to go flirt with some of the males in the crowd and show off her new magical abilities."

Before they had a chance to say anything in response, Jorus stepped in.

"Finally," he said with a sigh of relief. "Got away from them. As much as I like chatting, there are limits to how much I can tolerate. So who's this? He's cute."

Surfal blushed at this. his face turned a deeper purple.

"This is Surfal," Anarchei introduced the night elf. "Surfal, this is Jorus."

The two elfs shook hands, Surfal still with a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Jorus?" Stronghoof enquired after a moment. "Are you like us? Do you like other males?"

"Well, not exactly," Jorus said slowly with a grin. "You see, I like anything that is as smart as me, and is something I can have sex with."

They all shared a laugh at this pronouncement.

"But if that's true," the tauren continued after the laughter died down. "Does that mean that you and Anarchei have ever been together?"

"We talked about it once," the elf replied seriously. "But we decided that we weren't right for each other, and that we just wanted to be friends."

Stronghoof nodded, and looked to his partner, who had turned to face him. They starred into each other's eyes for what seemed like ages.

"So, now that they are distracted, maybe you and I can talk?" Jorus asked Surfal with a glance at the two paladins. "What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a healer in Dalaran," the kaldorei explained with a smile. "A druid to be specific. I'm one of the healers who helped Stronghoof when he was infected with the plague."

Jorus smiled at this, and led the night elf away from Anarchei and Stronghoof so that they could have a chat. Both paladins were still engaged in a look that breathed passion. Both draenei and shu'halo knew deep down what they felt. This was love, pure and simple. There was only one thing they needed to do before they made their relationship final, one more step before the final hurdle. The party had started to wind down, and they both knew that it was time. They made their way to the stage and climbed up the stairs at the side. The band stopped their instruments, the dancers on the floor halted their movements.

"Stronghoof and I have an announcement to make," Anarchei said in a loud voice, one that carried to every corner of the great hall.

He grasped his mates hand in his own and squeezed hard. This was it, this was the moment of truth, and for once the draenei was at a loss for words. The tauren noticed this, and wrung up the courage to say what needed to be said. He glanced at his partner, who's eyes settled on his in gratitude for been able to find the words that he could not, and both smiled to convey that they understood one another.

"Anarchei and I are a couple," he declared to the crowded room, all eyes now on him. "We are in love, and will be mated for life."

There was a short pause as everyone came to grips with what they had just heard. Finally, the room erupted in cheers. There were shouts of congratulations, while others clapped. From their position on the stage they could see all the way to the back of the room. There, his back against the wall, was Surfal, who was pressed tightly against another elf. Jorus had engaged him in what could only be described as a passionate kiss. Both had their eyes shut, and were clearly oblivious to the world around them. Both paladins smiled at this, and a deep urge grew within them as they witnessed the passion of the two elfs. They turned to face each other, hands came up to wrap themselves around one another and pull their bodies tight. Their lips crushed together, mouths parted slightly. Their first public kiss. They could not ignore, however, the loud applause, cheers, whistles, and a few shouts to get a room, which had resulted from their display of affection. They seperated, and starred into each others eyes.

"I love you," Anarchei said as he peered up slightly at the taller tauren.

"I love you too," Stronghoof replied with a smile, and leaned in to embrace his mate.

Eventually, the party came to a close. It was past midnight and many were tired. People said their goodbyes, and either walked through portals which took them back to their own cities, or went out on to the street, to teleport, transform into a drake and fly away, or just walk to enjoy the night air. The two paladins were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to bed. They made their way down the street toward their apartment. Neither had seen Jorus or Surfal since they shared a kiss on the stage, but neither were worried. They both knew where they had gone, back to Jorus' room no doubt. They used the orb at the base of the tower to teleport themselves up to their apartment. They found their way to the bedroom, and fell heavily upon the large bed. They lay there next to each other and shared one last kiss before they fell asleep in each others arms.


End file.
